


Kings Landing Cover-Up!

by Riocat01



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Braime - Fandom, Game of Thrones (TV), SanSan - Fandom, briemund - Fandom
Genre: AU, Braime - Freeform, Brienne and Tormund in love, F/M, Intrigue, Jaime controlled by Cersei, Jaime regrets leaving Brienne, Joffrey murdered, Modern, Murder, Renly murdered, Sexual Intercourse, briemund, sansa and Sandor in love, sansan, way more Briemund than Braime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23307436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riocat01/pseuds/Riocat01
Summary: A Modern Sansan, Briemund, Braime AUSansa Stark, wrongly accused of killing Joffrey Baratheon.Brienne Tarth, wrongly accused of killing Renley Baratheon.Jaime Lannister, the police detective assigned to track down and bring in Sansa and Brienne, dead or alive. The problem... He is secretly in love with Brienne.Sandor Clegane.  A no nonsense private eye, and Sansa’s lover. He is determined to prove her innocence no matter what the cost.Tormund Giantsbane. Career Military man, and Brienne’s lover. He will prove Brienne’s  innocence and save her life, no matter who he has to kill.Cersei Lannister. Jaime’s power hungry, manipulative twin sister. The woman behind it all.A Game of Murder, Love, and Obsession!
Relationships: Brienne of Tarth & Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Tormund Giantsbane & Brienne of Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey Baratheon has been murdered at his own wedding. The police suspect business women and Joffrey’s ex-fiancé, Sansa Stark, of killing him. After being questioned by Police Detective Jaime Lannister, Sansa seeks comfort in the arms of her lover, Sandor Clegane, who decides to do a little investigating of his own.

Sansa Stark stood at the window of her luxury high rise apartment looking out over the skyscrapers of Kingslanding to the ocean beyond. She had awakened early, and prepared to go into the office, but her mood was far too grim to face the people at work who will have certainly heard by now, and will most probably stare holes in her. Following the events of the evening before, she allowed herself a moment to wish she was safe at her family’s estate of Winterfell in what had once been called the North.

Her father’s father had started Stark, Inc. with little more than his reputation, and it had grown into a successful international conglomerate. Before his untimely death, her father Ned had determined that her older Robb would take over running the company. However, his death too, had been unexpected. Sansa shuttered each time she thought of the terrible plane crash that had claimed his life, as as those of her mother, and Robb’s wife and unborn child. She wondered when her family’s seemingly terrible luck would end. The deaths of most of her family had left Sansa as CEO of Stark Inc. Inspite of everything she had been through in the past years, Sansa was doing well and enjoying the challenge. She had come to this bustling metropolis so far from her home not only to begin leading her family’s company, but also to marry her college sweetheart, Joffrey.

It seemed a good match. Joffrey was the son of Robert Baratheon, her father’s friend, and a mogul in his own right. Black Stag Industries boasted holdings all over the world. Joffrey’s mother Cersei, had been a Lannister before her marriage. The family was one of the richest in Westeros. It would have have been a fortuitous union. However, those marriage plans did not materialize as she had once hoped. After she arrived, Sansa had found Joffrey a very different person than the sweet, although somewhat spoiled, young man she had know at the University. Or at least she thought she had known him. Perhaps his caring for her had been an act all along. Here in Kingslanding, back in the influence of his opportunistic family especially his power-hungry mother, Sansa soon found Joffrey’s true personality to be detestable.

As they had prepared for their official engagement, the boy she thought was her prince became increasingly cruel. Joffrey soon became viscous and hateful, even abusive. Sansa did not what she would have done, had it not been for Sandor Clegane, Joffrey’s bodyguard. From the first time Sansa met him, she could not put him from her mind. It was obvious the attraction was reciprocated on his part. The big, dark, brooding man had watched her pain, and had tried to overlook the remnants of Joffrey’s abuse until he could take no more of it. Sandor came to Sansa one violently stormy night. No longer able to hide their feelings for each other, they had shared a passionate night of love making. By the time morning had come, both had declared their love to the other, and knew there would never be anyone else in their hearts.

The next day, Sandor told Joffrey and the Baratheons to go fuck themselves. He had ended up starting his own Private Detective agency. Before Joffrey could even catch his breath, Sansa told him that she loved another and could never marry him. She walked out and thought she would never lay eyes on him. That was until she received word from her dear college friend, Margaery Tyrell, that she herself was engaged to Joffrey. Sansa was shocked when she received an invitation to the wedding. Sandor all but begged her not to go, and swore he would not accompany her. Sansa, however, insisted on supporting her friend, especially in light of her marrying such a despicable person.

Sandor had been right. Even though Sansa had been extremely uncomfortable, she had managed to smile and wish her friend well. That was until the reception. Sansa doubted she would ever forget the gruesome sound of Joffrey choking on his wedding cake. He had died right there, in the middle of the ballroom. It had been terrible. Sansa wanted to comfort Margaery, but could not get close to her in the melee. Unable to watch the horrifying scene any longer, Sansa headed for the door in fear of passing out. She was tearing out of the parking lot in her little red sports car as the ambulance pulled in.

A startling knock at the door shook Sansa from her thoughts, and nearly caused her spill the tea she had let grow cold. She had not wished to speak with anyone. She had even chosen to come back to her own apartment instead of Sandor’s tiny studio across town. She did not want him to think that her agitation was due to feelings she did not still have for Joffrey. Now, in the light of morning, Sandor’s strong arms around her was all Sansa wanted, as she heard the loud voice call from the other side of her front door.

“Kings Landing PD!” It was the tone of a man, forceful and clear. “Open up, Miss Stark. We’d like to speak with you.” The officer ordered.

Moments later, Sansa turned the lock, her heart in her throat. She left the chain latched and pulled back the door to open only a few inches. A tall blonde haired, man with green eyes and handsome angular features stood holding open a small leather wallet that displayed his badge and identification. There was no need for the introduction. Sansa had seen him many times around the Black Stag building when she had been involved with Joffrey. He was her one-time fiancé’s uncle. Sansa also knew that Jaime Lannister had been involved with her best friend Brienne, before the woman had been let go from Black Stag and come to work for her. She and Brienne had grown extremely close, and Sansa knew exactly what this man had done to her.

“Miss Stark.” The man announced with authority. “I need to ask you some questions about the murder of Joffrey Baratheon.”

“Murder?” Sansa’s eyes went wide.

“Yes. Miss Stark.” Detective Lannister confirmed. “Joffrey was poisoned.

Before thinking, Sansa closed the door and slid open the chain. She opened it more fully, and allowed the detective entrance to her apartment. Jaime Lannister walked in as if he owned the place, casting his eyes over the contents of the interior. He took out a small leather bound notebook, and flipped back the cover. Removing a pen from his pocket and clicking the tip in place, he began his barrage of questions.

“Please have a seat.” Detective Lannister offered to Sansa in her own home. He motioned toward her overstuffed leather sofa. She complied nearly in shock.

“Miss Stark, you were engaged to Joffrey?” He asked already knowing the answer.

“Yes. For a while.” She confirmed.

“It is my understanding, that it was Joffrey who broke off the engagement?” Again, He did not really ask a question.

“No.” Sansa corrected. “I did.” She said, proudly.

Detective Lannister nodded his head, and wrote something in his notebook. “Was that before or after you began a romantic relationship with Sandor Clegane?” He questioned.

Sansa looked at him incredulously. “My relationship with Sandor is really none of your business.” She shot back.

“Miss Stark, please. There are two uniformed officers in the hallway. I really don’t want to have to take you downtown for questioning.” He threatened Cooley. “Did you break off your engagement before or after you became involved with Clegane?”

Fear began to well up in Sansa’s heart. She wished Sandor were with her. Lacking the experience with law enforcement to know not to speak, and not wanting to be taken into custody, she complied. “After.”

“So. You were having an affair with Clegane?” The detective proclaimed.

“It was...is not an affair. I love him.” Sansa declares, lifting her chin defiantly.

Again Detective Lannister scrawled something in his notebook, and shrugged off her romantic sentiment. “Why were you even at the wedding?” He asked. “If you were Joffrey’s ex, and you are now in a relationship with another man?” He inquired suspiciously.

“Margaery is my dear friend.” Sansa reported. “I was there to support her.” She told him.

“Support?” Lannister’s brow raised at Sansa’s unusual choice of words. “Not celebrate.”

Sansa swallowed. How could she explain her private life, and what she had suffered at Joffrey’s hands. “I was concerned for her. Joffrey is...” She paused, taking a moment to at least be respectful. “Joffrey was a very difficult person to be around.” Sansa tried to be kind.

“Yet you were going to marry him?” The Detective looked puzzled.

“He wasn’t always that way.” Sansa frowned, remembering the sweet boy he had been when she first met him.

“Did he ever hurt you?” He asked, avoiding eye contact.

“Yes.” Sansa said matter-of-fact-checks. “He became abusive when relocated to Kings Landing.” Again, Detective Lannister made notes.

“Why did you leave the scene last evening?” He grilled.

Tears came to Sansa’s eyes. “It was so horrible...watching him...” She could not finish. “I just couldn’t stand being there anymore.” She acknowledged.

“Where did you go when you left the scene?” He asked.

Sansa thought his description, made everything sound so ominous and official. “I came home.” She said plainly.

Lannister finished writing his notes and flipped the small book shut. Sansa did feel sorry for him. She remembered that he was very close with a Joffrey’s mother, his twin sister, and she was sure he must be grieving at least her pain. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She offered.

He nodded, barely acknowledging her sentiment as he headed for the door. Sansa followed, trying to control her shaking, more than ready to show her visitor out. She turned the knob, swinging the door open.

Before he left, Detective Lannister turned and handed Sansa a business card. “Incase you think of anything you might want to add.” He eyed her suspiciously.

He then pretended to remind himself of something. “Oh, and Miss Stark.” He added. “Please don’t leave town.” Somehow his request seemed like an order.

In total confusion, Sansa nodded. She closed the door firmly behind him as he left.  
————————————-  
Sansa stood in the entryway of her apartment. She felt her resolve give way to the shaking she tried so desperately to hide while Detective Lannister had been questioning her. How could this be, Joffrey murdered? Why were the police questioning her? Did they think she killed him? All she wanted was to be tucked in Sandor’s protective arms. Suddenly, her spacious apartment seemed to close in on her. Sansa knew she should wait a few minutes, so the police detective and his officers would not see her leave. She hurried into her bedroom, and quickly changed out of her office attire. She quickly pulled on the tight jeans she knew would drive Sandor wild, and a loose cotton blouse that showed off her curves in all the right ways. She undid the tight bun in which she had quaffed her hair for work, and let it flow delicately around her face. With her nerves on edge, all she could think of as she made her way to the elevator and down to the underground garage, was how good he would feel.  
———————————-  
Sandor’s office was on the other side of town, and not the best side of town. Usually he preferred that Sansa let him know when she would be joining him there so he could meet her on the street. He did not trust that she would be safe in that neighborhood. Today, however, she had been too overcome, and did not want him to hear her distress over the phone. All she wanted was to go to him.

“What in the Seven Hells.” Sandor grumbled, as Sansa burst into his office. “Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming? I would have met you.” He questioned her, concerned.

Sansa ran to his him, and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her firm perfect breasts against his chest. “I just needed you.” She tried to explain. “Please, just hold me.” She begged.

Sandor could tell something was wrong, but feeling her body next to his felt so damn good, and he had regretted their last conversation since the minute she had stormed out of there the previous afternoon. All he could do was raise her face to his and kiss her luscious mouth. Sansa lost herself in his embrace, and melted into his kiss. Nearly forgetting the reason she had raced to him, she searched his mouth with her hungry tongue, her breath hard and heavy.

“I’m sorry.” She told him, leaning her head against his and reaching for another long kiss.

“I’m sorry.” He answered her, his mouth not satisfied with the tiny taste he had just enjoyed. He ran his large hand forcefully through her hair, and traced her tongue with his.

“You were right.” Sansa whimpered. Sandor’s nearness, and the feel of him against her made even the small distance between them painful. Sansa’a body was already reacting to her need for him, making her wet with desire.

“It doesn’t matter.” Sandor groaned. “I never should have let you go there by yourself.” He breathed heavily into her ears. He moved his free hand up Sansa’s waist until he cupped her supple breast. He could feel her hard nipple through the thin bra she wore. His thumb lingered there, rubbing tiny circles, bringing a soft moan from her throat as she arched her back in his arms.

He was already hard for her, but now he could barely stand the tight pull of his pants against the growing erection she was giving him. He gasped with relief when her deft fingers reached for his belt and began to set him free. He answered her silent plea by undoing the buttons of her blouse. Slipping it from around her, he sent the flowing fabric sailing across the room. Sandor wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer to him. He removed her bra with a snap and dropped it to the floor. His mouth sank lower until he found the soft skin and sharp point of her other breast. He traced her with his tongue, his kiss turning rougher until his biting and sucking brought a loud inhale from her as she reacted to the glorious pain.

At last, Sansa worked the button closure on his old jeans open. She ran her hand inside and down the front until she reached her goal. Smiling at her prowess, she teased him a little, stroking and tickling. Her other hand reached around to lower his pants past his buttocks. He raised his mouth again to hers, and parted her lips sharply with his tongue. His beard scratched her face with the most wonderful power, and she met kiss with equal passion. Finally, nearly ripping the old wrinkled t-shirt he wore over his head, she let it fall behind them.

It was his turn, he practically tore the front her jeans open and slid his hands toward her back to pull them from around her, and squeeze her tight ass. The action moved the tingling nerves between her legs closer to his hardness, and she smiled loving the sensation and his reaction to her. He peeled his favorite jeans from her body and removed her tiny panties with a flick of his wrist. The action of her legs rising to free herself from her lace undies brought an almost unbearable delight to him as her hips pressed against hers. He could wait no longer.

“Gods be damned, Baby! I need you!” He choked into her hair as she nibbles his neck.

“Shut up, Babe!” Sansa breathed hotly. “Shut up, and fuck me!” She ordered.

Not needing a further invitation, Sandor scooped Sansa into his arms and backed her against the nearby file cabinet that stood in the corner of his small office. Holding her in place with the pressure of his huge strong form he pulled her leg up around him, recreating to the sensual force he had felt from her body next to his only a few moments before. Still, he forced himself to wait. He knew that watching her pleasure would only heighten his a moment later.

Sandor’s hand slipped between Sansa’s legs. The warm wettness waiting there made him moan low and lustful. His fingers running along her enflamed nerves, she answered his call with a soft moan that told him she was ready. He traced her soft elegant folds with the tips of his fingers, his thumb moving back and forth over the sensitive spot that drove her mad.

“Oh Gods! Babe! I’m gonna come.” She shouted, not caring who might hear outside the door.

At her command, he drove his fingers inside her soft tight cunt. Her body shook and shuttered as he moved them in and out, slamming them against the places he knew she loved. She nearly bit his shoulder with the delight of the sensation he was causing her. Her passionate cries intensifying. At once he felt her body tense, as her breath caught in her throat. Her back arched, and her face twisted in a beautiful painful pleasure. Her hot needful flow cascaded over his hand as her orgasm left her trembling. She collapsed against him, wanting more.

“I’m not finished yet, beautiful.” Sandor promised.

Sansa’s hands ran back into her sweaty hair, her back arching again, her breasts stretching up to him. “Gods, I hope not.” She smiled seductively.

His mouth again found her breasts, his hands kneeding them until she sighed with delight. Finally, reaching down he pulled her other leg up until she was wrapped around his massive body. She felt him hard between her legs, and beckoned him inside her with a sweet begging moan. He accepted greedily, driving his long thick cock deep inside her. She gasped and held her breath. Her nails dug into this back and the sweet sting was all he needed to thrust deeper within. Her breathing was so quick and shallow it left her dizzy, as he satisfied every inch of her. Softly, slowly, he began the rhythmic stabs that would give them both what they needed. Again, their tongues searched each other’s mouths hungrily, begging for more.

Knowing that Sandor intensified when she moved in time with him, and loving it when he did, Sansa grabbed onto his shoulders and matched the rocking of his body with her own rocking waves. He groaned loudly, and thrust into her harder. She was nearly screaming her approval.  
Finally, both of them nearing climax, Sandor needed to fill her. A shout echoed from his throat, as his face winced with sweet pain, Sansa felt him begin to slam into the place at the top of her that she knew would bring her quickly. She gripped the strong muscles in his arms as they both orgasmed together, her warm wet flow drawing in the rush he released inside her.  
——————————-  
Sandor braced himself against the file cabinet, his lips still needing the taste of Sansa’s skin as she lowered her legs and collapsed against him. They stood for a moment, enjoying what they had shared.

At last he raised his hands and softly caught her jaws. He nestled his face against hers, and kissed her again long and slow. “Hey Little Bird?” He questioned softly when he could breath again.

Sansa smiled widely up at him. “Yes, My Love?” She flashed her adoring eyes at him.

“Did you take your pill today?” He questioned softly.

Sansa snickered, and looked coyly into his slightly worried expression. “Yes.” She rolled her eyes and exaggerated the word.

“Just checking.” He nuzzled her neck.

Sansa ducked under his arm, and began retrieving her clothes from the floor. She grinned teasingly over her shoulder at him, and padded into the tiny bathroom. He smiled to himself. He was a lucky man. Grabbing his pants and raising them around his waist, he followed her comfortably.

Seated demurely, she was finishing relieving herself as he entered. She completed the usual routine as he grabbed a towel to wipe the remnants of their passion from himself. He then, buttoned his jeans and pulled on a clean t-shirt. He watched as she replaced her clothing, a tiny pang of yearning ached in him at seeing her body disappear under the garments. He kissed her neck as she joined him at the sink. As he held her, he remembered what she had witnessed the day before.

Taking her shoulders, he turned her around to face him. “Are you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Oh Sandor.” She closed her eye against the memory and shook her head. “It was horrible. Watching him...die.”

“I’m sure it was.” He wrapped his caring arms around her.

Sansa continued her report. “I mean, yes he was terrible, but no one deserves that.” She squeezed her arms around his middle and unconsciously studied the mirror unaware of her admiring him, as she recounted the events. “And at his own wedding. Poor Margaery.” Sansa shook her head.

“I’m sure you were a comfort to her.” Sandor acknowledged, stroking Sansa’s hair.

“I didn’t even get to speak with her.” Sansa lamented. “There was too much going on.” She looked up at him, eased by his nearness. “I just left.”

He pulled her from him, alarmed. “You left?” He questioned. “Before the police got there?”

Sansa nodded. “Well, yes. The ambulance was just arriving as I pulled out.” Her large beautiful blue eyes regarded him innocently. “Why?”

Sandor did not want to alarm her, and for the second time that morning he kicked himself for not accompanying her to the wedding. “They usually question people before they let anyone leave the scene.” He explained.

“They did question me.” Sansa told him. “But it was this morning, at my apartment.”

“What?” Sandor’s face became a worried mask of stone. He led Sansa into the outer office and sat her down gently on the sofa.

“The detective said they think Joffrey was murdered.” Sansa said frantically. “Why would the police ask me about it?” She grew more distressed as she talked. “Do think I had something to do with it?”

Sandor did not want to alarm her further, but he was beginning to fear that was exactly what they thought. “Tell me what happened?” His eyes studied her face carefully. He could tell she was frightened.

Sansa took a deep breath. “This detective knocked on my door as I was trying to get ready for work, and asked to come inside.” She recounted. “He said he had some questions for me.”

“Detective? Who?” Sandor was growing more concerned by the minute.

“His name was Jaime Lannister. He was Joffrey’s uncle” Sansa said matter-of-factly.

“Lannister?” Sandor sneered.

“Do you know him?” Sansa asked, again innocently thinking that it might help if he did.

“Yes. I know him.” Sandor spat, as his jaw clenched. He did not want to worry Sansa by telling her that in his opinion, Lannister was a right cunt. He also realized that it was extremely odd for the family member of a murder victim question a suspect. “What did he ask you?” He inquired, eager to discern Lannister’s motives.

“He wanted to know about my break up with Joffrey.” Sansa continued. “And...about...us.” She lowered his eyes.

“What about us?” His mind was working overtime trying to connect the dots.

“Whether we were together before or after I broke it off with Joffrey.” Sansa answered, almost shyly.

Sandor’s sat back with a huff, and stared into the nonexistent distance. He was not liking the way this was looking.

Sansa read his body language as usual, like it was her own personal language. His tense posture made her heart beat nervously faster.  
She reached over and laid her hand atop his.

“Did I do something wrong?” She quivered as tears came to her eyes.

Sandor could not stand the thought of the police questioning his Little Bird, over a murder. If they knew her, they would know she was not capable of that. Although, at that moment he could have done just that to Lannister for scaring her. He pulled Sansa to him and kissed her temple.

“No. Baby. No.” He engulfed her in his arms. “You did just fine.” He reassured her. Although, he did not believe Lannister had been that easily convinced of her innocence.

After losing herself in his strong embrace, Sansa sat back stilling holding onto his hands. “I’m frightened.” She admitted. “He told me not to leave town.” She reported urgently. “Why would they question me?” She wondered. Her eyes searching.

He knew exactly why, but did not want to trouble her further. It was clear to him that they suspected her of killing that little prick, Joffrey. He swore he would keep that information from her as long as he could.

“I don’t know.” He said. “But I am going to find out.” He promised her, his eyes telling even more than his words as he stared at her. She nodded, trusting him implicitly.

“What should I do?” All she wanted was to hide here with him.

Everything in Sandor wanted to keep Sansa safe in his care. He wanted to gather her in his arms and take her somewhere that no one could touch her. Instead, he knew that appearances sometimes meant more than the truth. At the moment, Sansa had to keep up her everyday routine, flawlessly.

Sandor stood slowly and pulled Sansa gently to her feet. He caressed her cheek, not wanting to let her go. It took all of his strength to face her. “You’re going to go home, get dressed for work, and go into the office.”

“No.” Sansa shook her head. “I don’t want to face anyone.” She whimpered.

“I know.” He told her. “But it is best right that you do exactly that.” He admitted.

“This is worse than I thought.” Sansa questioned. “Isn’t it?” She choked.

His fingers slid down to her chin. He lifted her terrified face to his. Bending to her, Sandor pressed his lips softly and protectively to Sansa’s trembling mouth. How many moments passed, neither knew. When they parted, both somehow felt better.

“I don’t want you worry about anything, Little Bird.” He told her more like an order. “I will take care of this.” Sansa nodded. He was her knight in shining armor, and she knew he would protect her.

Sandor grabbed his hat and beat up leather jacket from the coat rack, and together they walked to Sanda’s car. Sandor kissed her again, long and slow. He then put her in the driver’s seat, and latched the seatbelt around her. “Call me If you need me.” He directed her. “For anything.”

“I will.” Sansa cradled his cheek for a moment, as he leaned into the driver’s side door.

He could not take his eyes from hers. He did not want to. “I love you.” He vowed. “Everything is going to be alright. I swear it.” He nestled his forehead to hers.

Sansa smiled warmly. “I love you, too.” She proclaimed. “It already is. I have you.” She told him softly.

He carefully closed her door and watched her drive away. He was already counting the seconds until he saw her again. Now, though, he had work to do. He donned his scruffy old hat, that Sansa found so adorable, and swung his jacket onto his shoulders. He shot his arms angrily down the sleeves. He had people to see.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To clear Sansa’s name, Sandor begins his investigation into who really killed Joffrey. His search leads him to seek help from an old friend, and a lifelong nemesis.

Sandor Clegane pulled his big black motorcycle into the only empty parking space outside the downtown Kings Landing PD precinct, walking it in backwards so he could pull out angrily later. He was fairly certain that would be his mood when he left the station. He knew people here, some he had known when he had served in the army, some he wished he never needed to speak to again. Perhaps they could shed some light on why his Little Bird was now a suspect in the murder of that little Baratheon cunt.

The station was loud and crowded, as usual, and filled with the sorts of people he did not want anywhere near Sansa. He could not imagine her in this place, he thought to himself as he strode gruffly up the worn terrazzo stairway and walked into the squad room. He surveyed the busy cigarette and coffee fueled frenzy impatiently. Across the cavernous expanse, he saw his first source of information. The man’s head was buried in a file cabinet, turned slightly to allow his good eye to search through it’s contents.

Almost at the same instant as Detective Dondarrion slammed the cabinet drawer shut, Sandor barked his name from on a few inches behind him. “Beric!” He bellowed.

Dondarrion jumped and turned toward Sandor, annoyed. “Dammit, Clegane.” He frowned. “You scared the shit out of me.” Sandor was unmoved. “I figured I’d be seeing you today.” Beric shook his head and marched back to his desk.

“News travels fast.” Sandor remarked, scowling. He followed Dondarrion and perched in a chair beside the man’s disheveled desk, careful to position himself in the detective’s line of sight. He had known Beric when they had served in the Army together in the North. Losing an eye had gotten Dondarrion drummed out of the service, but it had not stopped him from becoming one of the most honest police officers in Kings Landing. Sandor knew he could trust him.

“It’s all over the station.” Beric lowered his voice. “Everyone’s talking about that little Baratheon shit getting himself killed.” He reported, talking swig of his cold coffee. His face registered his disgust.

“Is that the only topic of discussion.” Sandor prodded.

“No.” Beric became very serious. “Looks like your girl is the prime suspect.” He shook his head, knowing that something had to be very wrong.

Sandor bristled at the thought. “You know that’s bullshit!” He blustered, trying to keep his rage from flaring too hotly.

“Of course, I know that.” Beric conceded. “But, it’s not my case.” He told Sandor. “The question is, do the powers that be know that?” He leaned in closer.

“Look there’s some reason Lannister was assigned to the case.” Beric almost whispered. “The boy was his nephew. It’s a conflict of interest.” He looked severely at Sandor Clegane, hoping the man understood. Apparently, he did.

“Are you saying this goes high up?” Sandor questioned. He was fairly sure he already knew that it did.

Beric looked around nervously. Their conversation was already drawing attention. “I’m just saying it’s damned unusual.” He lowered his voice another octave. “Somebody must have wanted him investigating the case. And only him.” He gave Sandor an ‘if you know what I’m saying’ look, and hoped he would not have to say anymore.

Sandor would not be stopped. “Somebody outside the department?” He asked boldly.

“Couldn’t say.” Beric knew Clegane was probably right, but he wanted more certainty before giving the man anything to justify him rampaging through Kings Landing’s elite ending up in jail himself. “I’ll do some digging, and let you know what I turn up.”

Sandor nodded, and stood to go. “You know who you should talk to?”Beric gave him a knowing look.

“I don’t need to talk to that piece of shit.” Sandor disputed. He knew that Beric meant his estranged older brother. “What would he know about it? He’s the head of S.W.A.T.” Sandor reminded.

“I’m just saying, he pulls special duty and guards that Lannister woman, all the time.” Dondarrion informed him. “Gregor might have some more information about the goings on over there.” He explained.

Sandor scowled, knowing Beric was right. “Just let me know what you find out.” Sandor demanded, as he turned to go.

“Clegane!” Dondarrion stopped him. “If I were you, I wouldn’t take my eyes off of her.” He gave Sandor a warning look. “One person is already dead. Lord only knows how this thing’s going to play out.”

Sandor nodded, and his face grew worriedly harsh. “The Gods will be the only help for anyone that comes near her.”

Already stewing in his own thoughts, Sandor stalked through the squad room. The last person he wanted to see was his brother, much less let the cunt anywhere his unauthorized investigation. However, he knew Dondarrion had been right. Gregor might have some information that the police did not, and for Sansa, Sandor would swallow his pride and seek the man out. As he walked, he felt eyes upon him. Lifting his head from his thoughts, Sandor saw Jamie Lannister staring at him from a desk across the room. It took everything Sandor had in him, not to go beat the man senseless for frightening Sansa the way he had that morning. For her sake, all he did was stare back. If looks could have killed, Jaime Lannister would have dropped dead on the spot.  
————————————-  
He had every intention of leaving police headquarters once he had spoken to Beric Dondarrion, but as he approached the front doors Sandor realized the man had been right. He cursed him for that as he turned and plodded dejectedly through the back corridors of the station. He had hoped to avoid any contact with his brother. If he never again saw the person who had been his tormentor in his youth, it would still be too long. Their mother had died when Sandor was quite young, leaving all three of her children to the mercy of their hateful, abusive, alcoholic father. Unfortunately, the oldest and strongest, Gregor, took after his father in all the worst ways. He was cruel and viscous, and Sandor had usually been the target of his heinous acts.

The one ray of light in the disfunctional Clegane household was had been Sandor’s sister Elinore. Older than him by several years, but younger than Gregor, she was Sandor protector and his nurturer after the death of their mother. It had been while trying to shield him from one of Gregor’s tirades that Elinore had placed herself between her older and younger brothers. Bent on unleashing his anger on Sandor, and determined to grab his younger brother, Gregor had knocked Elinore aside. Pushed forcibly out of the way, the girl had gone plummeting down the stairs. She was killed instantly, breaking her neck in the fall. Her death had been ruled an accident, but Sandor’s knew his brother was to blame. He always suspected that his father had called in favors from friends in the police department in order to help his favored eldest avoid jail time. Sandor understood that if not for his brother’s evil rage, his dear sister would be alive still. Elinore had done her best to shield young Sandor from his brother’s wrath. When she was gone, there was nowhere he could hide from it. Until the day, early in his teens, he had left home and had never gone back. As time passed, he had grown hardened and cold, cynical and bitter.

Over the years, Sandor’s hatred for Gregor grew until it was a festering wound inside him which threatened to take over his very soul. Then he had looked up one day to see the loveliest, kindest blue eyes he had ever beheld. To Sandor’s amazement, he soon found himself held within the gaze of those same eyes. Finally, his armor began to crack. Sansa Stark had soon torn down the walls he had built around his heart, and he found his soul laid bare to her. She was the only other human being besides his sister who had seen anything alive under his carefully cultivated shell. He loved her instantly. At first he fought against it. His pain had become the most stable thing in his life. He did not feel worthy of Sansa’s affections, and wanted to protect her from the darkness within him. It was useless. His Little Bird had seen right through him. She was the only person who had taken the chance to get close to him, and had not been frightened. Sansa had immediately understood his pained heart. What he feared would drive her away, only drew her closer to him. Finally came the day that neither could deny their love any longer, and they gave into their deepest desire. He swore then, that he would spend his life protecting Sansa the way he had been unable to shield his sister. Now, if it took speaking with the most vile person he knew to save her, so be it. He adored her with everything he had. He would walk through the fires of seven Hells themselves for Sansa.

So he steeled himself as he drew closer to the lower level wing of the station that housed the Special Weapons And Tactics division. The team of which Gregor was Captain. S.W.A.T. was located just off the garage where their armored vehicles were stored. Sandor trod through the warehouse glowering at the eyes staring at him. His entire countenance made it clear he was no one who wished to be messed with. It soon became clear that the massive man was enroute for business with their commander, who was himself no one to agitate. They wisely decided to simply sit back and watch whatever show may occur.

Sandor did not bother to knock, but stormed into Gregor’s office like a man on a mission. He did not care if his older brother was busy, he had business he wanted to conclude quickly. He found Gregor looming over a mountain of paperwork, his mood as sour as the look on his face. As large and formidable as Sandor was himself, Gregor was taller by three inches and had at least fifty pounds of muscle on him. Today, Sandor would not have cared if Gregor had been as tall as the legendary giants in what the history books called The Land Beyond the Wall. He swallowed his pride, ready to ask the person he despised most for help. It was for Sansa. He would beg if he had to.

As soon as the door swung open, Gregor raised his head annoyed and ready to take out his frustration on whomever it was who dared to interrupt his already bad day. He rolled his eyes in disgusted dread when he saw the intrusion was his brother. He had managed to avoid the man who shared his own blood, but had always been the most annoying stain over his exsistence. Even as an adult, Gregor could not forget the sound of his own mother proclaiming his infant brother to be the most precious boy she had ever seen. He would never forgive Sandor for steeling his mother’s love, as his young mind had understood it. Even his little sister whom he had once adored, had preferred Sandor’s company to his. The loss of Elinore had only cemented in his mind, that he was a monster. He had not meant for her to fall down those stairs, had certainly not meant for her to die. However, she had, and it had turned his soul rancid. A quality which his guilt had allowed him to readily accept. Today though, was not the time to wallow in the past. His annoyance had come back to trouble him again.

“What in the Hells do you want?” Gregor scowled as his brother slammed the office door closed behind him, shutting out prying eyes and ears. Gregor was keenly aware that Sandor had not come for a friendly visit, as if he ever would.

“You need to tell me everything you know about the Baratheon kid’s murder.” Sandor announced unceremoniously.

“I’m S.W.A.T.” Gregor scoffed. “That’s Homicide.” He brushed off his brother’s abrupt request, and went back to his paperwork.

“You pull overtime guarding them. A lot of it.” Sandor reminded him. “Surely you must have heard something. An off-hand comment, a phone conversation. Something.” He wagered, hovering over Gregor’s desk.

“What is your interest in their business?” Gregor was becoming suspicious. “What are you trying to find?” He knew his brother well enough to know that Sandor would not be standing anywhere near his office if it was not of great importance to younger Clegane.

Sandor backed off a little. He was not used to making emotional pleas, especially to his brother. “Jaime Lannister questioned Sansa this morning.” He explained, still livid at the thought. “They think she killed that little fucker.” His anger turned to distress despite his best efforts to hold his emotions in check. “There is no way I’m going to stand by while she takes the fall for this bullshit.” He vowed.

Gregor finally looked up from his desk. He knew that his brother was having a very passionate affair with the new head of Stark Incorporated. Apparently, the two were very much in love. He supposed he could understand Sandor’s desire to check out every possible angle to clear his girlfriend of the suspicion that was now hanging over her head. He doubted himself, from the little he knew about Sansa Stark, that she was even capable to such an act. Taking jobs guarding Cersei Lannister and her family did not mean they took him into their confidence. It hardly made him privy to their dealings, especially secret ones. He doubted that he could help his brother even if he was so inclined, which he wasn’t.  
He decided to go with his usual approach, anger.

“Well, maybe she did it.” Gregor spouted, uncaringly.

Sandor could feel his blood boiling. He had not come looking for a fight, but he was more than willing to take on one to defend Sansa’s honor. “She could no more do a thing like that, than...Elinore.” Sandor knew speaking their sister’s name would force Gregor to pick his miserable head up from the papers on which he scribbled, and focus on his words. He needed Gregor’s undivided attention, even if it was in the form of rage.

Sandor was almost surprised at the speed at which his words triggered Gregor’s wrath. His brother rose with a fury from his studious position, knocking his chair over as he loomed toward Sandor, ready to grab him by the throat as he had when they were children. To Gregor’s surprise, this time his little brother did not back down or cower. Sandor stood ready to battle over his baseless claim against Sansa Stark. The look in Sandor’s eyes told Gregor that now, his brother would be a formidable foe. For a moment he was actually a little proud of him.

Gregor decided it would probably not be a good idea to push his brother any further. He changed the subject abruptly. “It’s not like I’m part of their inner circle.” He relaxed a bit, and tried to diffuse Sandor’s ire. “They don’t exactly discuss matters in my presence.” Gregor said, sarcastically.

Seeing Gregor backing down a little had the desired affect on Sandor. His clenched jaws relaxed, and he was able to think clearly once more. “I doubted they did.” He answered. “I’m just asking you to keep your eyes open.” He clarified. “Even if you don’t think something is important, it could help Sansa.” Sandor explained.

Gregor crossed around to the front of his desk to face his brother as Sandor prodded on with his plea. “Look, I don’t like being here anymore than you.” He doubted he had ever been so candid with his own brother. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have anything else to go in right now.” He told Gregor. He just needed a place to start.

Gregor shook his head, trying to form a logical course of action. “So what, you think Cersei Lannister-Baratheon killed her own son?” Gregor’s face shows the absurdity of his statement.

“Right now. I don’t know what the Hell’s going on or who’s behind it.” Sandor acknowledged. “All I need is a place to start.” He tried to shake from his mind the images of the consequences of failure in this endeavor, and slammed his fist down on the desk. “Dammit man! Do you want me to beg?” He could no longer hide his desperation. “I’ll beg.” He would have done anything.

Gregor regarded his brother. He almost envied him, although he would never admit it. The fact that Sandor was deeply in love with the Stark girl was obvious. Otherwise, he would not be there begging him for help. Gregor had never know anything in his life that strong except hate and anger. Truth be told, he was jealous. It must have been nice to have something to live for besides himself. To have a lovely young lady gaze upon him like he was the greatest thing in the world, was something he could not even fathom. But then again, perhaps he did not deserve that. Perhaps he never had.

“And what if there is something to this?” Gregor questioned. “What then?” He eyed Sandor.

“Just tell me.” Sandor answered plainly. “I’ll take care of the rest, and I’ll keep your name out if it.” He promised.

Gregor considered his options for a moment. “Nobody knows about this.” He warned. Then, he crossed to the door and wrapped his thick fist around the knob. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” He agreed, against his better judgment. Then he swung the door open, Sandor’s invitation to leave. Sandor nodded, accepting his brother’s conditions of secrecy as he left.  
—————————————-  
Later that afternoon, Sandor found Sansa sitting at the luxurious glass topped desk in her spacious office at Stark Incorporated. In the moment it took for him to enter, he could see she had not been able to keep her mind on work, and her pensive frown mirrored his own. She only brightened when she saw it was him. Sansa practically jumped from her chair and ran to him. Her beaming smile almost made him forget all their troubles.

“Hi, Baby!” She squealed as he enfolded her in his arms. He met her enthusiasm with a long, tender kiss. “How did you know did you know I needed to see you?” Sansa cooed as their lips parted and she laid her head comfortably against his strong chest.

“Why?” Sandor pulled back a bit and studied her more intently. “What happened?” He questioned, ever on the alarm.

Sansa snickered lovingly at his consistent seriousness. “No.” She corrected, smiling. “I mean I just needed you near.” She snuggled closer to him.

“Oh.” He smiled, enjoying the feel of her against him. “I wanted to check on you.” He felt it best not to say that he was there to guard her, and had no intention of leaving her side. “I want you to come with me. Now.” He told her, unable to hide his urgent tone.

“Something has happened?” She implored. He could not bare the expression of dread that found her flawless features.

“No.” He soothed her. “Nothing new. I just don’t want you out of my sight.” If whoever was behind this was desperate enough to try to pin a murder on her, there was no telling what else they might try.

“I was wrong to tell you to come to work today.” Sandor admitted. “I want you to come and stay at my place for a few days.”

“Am I in danger?” Sansa asked, alarmed.

“I don’t know.” He said, unwilling for hide the truth from her. “But I’m not taking any chances.”

“Alright.” Sansa agreed. “Whatever you say.” She trusted him, and felt so much safer in his presence. She would not protest his protectiveness.

“I’ll get a few things, and be right over.” She offered.

“No.” He corrected her. “You have clothes there. Those will do.” He decided. “I don’t even want you going back to your place.”

Her eyes widened with apprehension. “What about my car?” She asked uncertainly.

“Leave it here.” He ordered. “I’ve got my bike. We’ll take that.” He just wanted her safely hidden, where he could watch over her.

“Ok.” She agreed. Freeing herself from his watchful arms just long enough to grab her purse from behind her desk, Sansa gave him a brave smile upon returning to his embrace.

Sandor latched his arm around her shoulders as if he could keep all of the terrible truths of the world from her, and they quickly left her office. Once in the parking garage Sandor helped Sansa to perch on the back of his motorcycle, giving her the helmet. He then climbed on and with a stomp of his foot on the accelerator, the giant machine roared to life. They rolled out of the office building’s lower levels and began their trek across town. Sansa wrapped her arms around Sandor’s chest and pressed herself to him. She felt that nothing could harm her when she was with him. He was determined to make sure nothing did. He felt her body wrapped around his. Her soft curves were already beginning to ignite his need for her. The hard jaggedness of his frame against her made Sansa ache for him. The pulse of the bike’s motor added another level to the attraction of their bodies, and seemed to give life to their longing. As they rode, both were hungrily preparing for a repeat of the passion they had shared earlier that morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renly Baratheon had been murdered. His lifelong friend, Brienne Tarth, attacked and left unconscious at the site of the brutal slaying, awakens in the Emergency Room to find herself the number one suspect. She also finds her lover, Tormund Giantsbane, and her ex, Jaime Lannister, going at each other. On a night that did not turn out as anyone had planned, Brienne and Tormund take solace in their love for each other, while Jaime laments the choice he made for his sister which cost him the woman he loved.

“How in the Hells would she knock herself out from behind?” Tormund Giantsbane threw his hands up in disgust as he stood anxiously next to the emergency room bed upon which Brienne Tarth sat. “Listen to yourself, Lannister.” The volume of his voice was rising by the second.

The last thing Brienne remembered about the events of the evening was speaking to her dear friend, Renly Baratheon at his office in the Black Stag Industries building. She had gone there to discuss the suspicions that had fallen upon Sansa Stark regarding the murder of Renly’s nephew, Joffrey. Not only had Brienne been on Renly’s personal security team for years, he had been her friend since she was a girl. If anyone in the Baratheon family would give her the truth, he would. That had been hours ago, before she had awakened in the hospital, and now her friend was dead.

Brienne’s thoughts were snapped back to the present by the sounds of Tormund arguing with Jaime Lannister. “Why are you wasting time questioning Brienne?” Tormund seethed. “She was attacked.” He reminded the police detective. “Why aren’t you out there looking for whoever did this to her?”

“And to Renly Baratheon.” Jaime corrected coldly.

Brienne drew in a sharp breath, and grabbed for Tormund’s hand to steady herself. Someone had hit her from behind, in Renly’s office. She had not seen who it was. She had not even heard them. They had knocked her unconscious, and had stabbed him. Brienne closed her eyes and leaned her head against Tormund’s chest. The name patch on his fatigues dug into her head a little, but she did not care. He had been on night maneuvers at the base when he got the call about Brienne being taken to the hospital, and had not bothered to change. Normally, the sight of him in camouflage would have driven her mad with desire, but tonight was different. She had kept her nerves in check until now. It might have been the mention of Renly, or the sound of her lover and her ex arguing. It might have simply been the cold sterile atmosphere of the emergency room, but all Brienne wanted was to get out of there. Of all the detectives on the force, why did it have to be Jaime who had been assigned to her case?

Brienne and Jaime had been involved, for a while, a few years before. Brienne had been working for Renley’s security detail, when they met. He was Cersei Lannister-Baratheon’s twin brother, and had spent a great deal of time at the Black Stag offices. Since he was on the police force, they had worked closely on matters of safety and protection. Eventually, a friendship of mutual respect had developed between the two of them. It had taken a long time for them to even admit they had feelings for each other. It was actually a surprise when it happened, when their relationship took a romantic turn. They had been working late in Brienne’s office over a take-out dinner, when from out of nowhere, he kissed her. She had been a willing participant. The evening ended at her apartment, in bed, as did many evenings after that. They had been happy together. They had been good for each other. Then came the night she awoke, and he was gone. There was nothing, no explanation, no goodbye. He was just gone, and they were over.

Her heart had been broken. It had taken everything Brienne had to force herself to move on, but then she met Tormund. Not long after Jaime had left her, Brienne was let go from Black Stag. They sighted reduction in force, and told her it was simply a layoff. She had even received a healthy severance. Brienne knew better. Jaime’s sister Cersei had never liked her. Brienne had seen Robert Baratheon’s wife watching her from time to time, and the scrutiny increased as her relationship with Jaime grew. She was certain Jaime’s sister was behind her removal from Renly’s detail. It had been just as well. After the romance with Jaime disappeared, she did not wish to be there anymore.

To her surprise, Brienne’s services were quickly sought after, and Stark Incorporated had hired her in less than a week to be their head of security. She loved the job. It suited her. Within a short time, Brienne had grown close to Sansa Stark, the new head of the company, and they soon became good friends. It was while accompanying Sansa on a trip North to her family estate of Winterfell that Brienne met Sansa’s cousin, Jon Snow. He had been raised with Sansa as a brother. The young man was on leave from the army, and was also visiting the Starks. On that excursion Brienne also met Jon’s boisterous friend, and fellow soldier, Tormund Giantsbane. The man who would bring romance back into her life.

While it was clear that Tormund was completely smitten with Brienne from the first moment they met, she was not so easily swayed. She had been hurt in the past, and guarded her heart carefully. He had understood that, and was patient. Upon her return to Kings Landing, they had emailed, and video chatted. They had texted, and spent hours talking on the phone nearly every night. Then, when he accompanied Jon south on leave, Tormund asked Brienne out. She accepted, and before the end of the evening Brienne realized that she was head over heels in love with him. Brienne was surprised to find herself ready to love again. The devastatiion of Jaime’s betrayal had left her reeling. However, it had also left her stronger, more determined to forge path for herself, and find the happiness she deserved. Brienne knew that Tormund Giantsbane was that happiness for her. Somehow he had won her heart, and it was completely filled with love for him, and only him. That evening had ended with mutual declarations of their feelings, and their first night together. Brienne and Tormund had barely spent a night apart since. He got a transfer to Camp Hayford, near Kings Landing to be with Brienne. He would have married her by now, but she had not yet felt ready, and did not want to screw up a good thing. For his part, he already had one divorce under his belt, and two daughters so manipulated by their mother that they barely spoke to him. Marriage or not, what he had with Brienne was solid, it was beautiful and forever, and that was enough. He loved her and she loved him.

Now, as Tormund stood holding Brienne in the emergency room, hearing Jaime Lannister grilling her with questions which all seemed to cast suspicion on her, he suddenly realized that whoever had killed Renly might very well have done the same to her. That knowledge made his skin crawl. He could hold him temper no longer, or his jealousy. He knew Brienne had a history with Lannister, and for all the faith Tormund had in her love for him, he wanted so badly to beat the shit out of the pompous police detective.

“All this sounds to me like you think Brienne was in on it.” Tormund raised his head from seeing to Brienne, and was immediately on the defensive. He stepped forward, ready to fight. Jaime did not back down.

Realization dawned on Brienne as she looked questioningly at Jaime. “Wait?” She could not understand why he would think she would be capable of hurting Renly. “Am I a suspect?” Brienne questioned in disbelief.

Jaime looked at her stoically, not wanting to answer. She had been in the room when Renly was killed. Although she was knocked unconscious, professionally he had to treat her as a suspect even if he knew better. “Brienne.” He began, trying to sound calm and understanding. “At this point we can’t rule out...”

Tormund exploded. “You sure as Fuck better not be serious, Lannister.” His fists were clenched and ready to fly. Jaime stood willing to take the punch. It would be worth it to slap the cuffs on Giantsbane, and throw his ass in the holding cell downtown. He wouldn’t put his worst enemy in that hole.

“Tormund!” Brienne yelled, making her head start to throb again. He moved back slightly, but did not take his eyes off Jaime.

“Tormund! Stop It!” Brienne demanded. “I don’t need you spending tonight in jail.” She pleaded, again reaching for him.

Tormund heard the urgency in her voice, and remembered her injury. She was right. She needed him. It was he for whom she called, not Lannister. That thought made him swagger proudly as he returned to her. He stepped back to her side, and wrapped her in his arms, as Brienne nestled against him. She raised her face to his, her exhausted eyes imploring him. “Please. Honey.” Brienne begged. “I just want to go home.”

“You’re right.” Tormund conceded, and bent down to kiss her temple. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you out of here.” He promised. Neither saw Jaime Lannister’s jaws clench at their display.

“Are we done?” Tormund turned toward Jaime and questioned impatiently. “She needs to rest.”

Jaime pretended to peruse his small leather notebook. “Yes. I think that will do.” He agreed. “I’ll be in contact if I have any more questions.” He directed his comment solely to Brienne, trying to ignore Tormund Giantsbane altogether. Honestly, he had no reason to hate the man, other than Brienne belonged to him now. Jaime flipped his notebook shut, and started to leave. Before he reached the door, Jaime turned. “Brienne.” He paused, not wanting to see the dread in her eyes. “Just...” He tried not to make his words seem so officious. “Please don’t...leave town right now.” He said, his tone softening, as he turned away embarrassed that he had even needed to say that. He was out the door before giving Tormund any more opportunities to get himself arrested.  
———————————-  
Jaime Lannister sat pensively in his dark luxury sedan in the Emergency Room parking lot. He could not just leave. He told himself that he had to make sure Brienne was alright, but really he just wanted to see her a while longer. He watched in secret a few minutes later as Tormund Giantsbane brought her outside through the sliding doors. Her face was so sad, and even from the distance at which he watched, Jaime could see the worry creasing her forehead. Her shoulders were slumped as if the weight of the world rested on them, instead of just Giantsbane’s arms. Jaime knew he had no right to the resentment he felt, but he could not help it. If not for his own weakness, it would have been him giving her so much comfort now. He scowled as Tormund helped her into the passenger side of his big black, four by four, pick-up truck. Jaime squinted to watch her under the reflections of the streetlights on the windows as Giantsbane drove off, taking her with him.

Jaime started his car with a defeated sigh. He could not get the thought of Brienne’s frightened eyes out of his mind as he pulled onto the highway that would take him to his lonely condo. Until tonight, he had not seen her in over a year, and even then it had been only from a distance. Tonight was the first time he had spoken to her since the night he left. If she only knew how hard it had been for him to walk out that night, and how his heart had wrenched at the thought of her reaction when she awoke. Leaving her was the hardest, and the worst thing he had ever done.  
——————————————-  
The pounding in Brienne’s head had turned into a dull thud by the time she and Tormund pulled into the driveway of their little craftsman bungalow in the North end of the city. At first they had chosen the little house on the tree lined street because if it’s proximity to the army base for him, and to the highway so she could easily travel downtown. It had quickly become the most wonderful place in the world to both of them as they settled in, and although not married, shared their life together. Brienne could swear her heart rate went down each time the happy little home came into view. Tonight, she had spent most of the trip home from the hospital leaning back with her eyes closed. Alone with Tormund at last, Brienne had almost allowed herself to drift off to sleep. She might have done just that if not for the scenes that played over and over in her mind. Her troubled brain could not stop picturing Renly being stabbed, even though she had not actually seen it. Tormund had spent the drive holding fast to Brienne’s hand over the middle console. It was the only calm she could find. His touch kept her from spinning hysterically out of control. It was her lifeline.

Brienne knew how difficult it had been for Tormund to be face to face with Jaime Lannister that evening, especially under such stressful circumstances. She knew that he feared that somewhere deep within her heart, Brienne might still have feelings for Jaime. She wished he could be as certain of her absolute love for him as she was. There was no one else in her heart, only him, forever. There was no question of that fact in her mind. Brienne sighed as Tormund pulled his truck in front of the garage door and turned the motor off. She opened her eyes to see his loving smile as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.

“We’re home.” He announced lovingly. Brienne gave his fingers a happy squeeze.

He turned to open his door, but Brienne held tight to his grasp, stopping his exit. Tormund studied her, wondering If there was something wrong. “What is it?” He tried to smile over his worry.

Brienne gazed at Tormund for a moment, so happy to be home with him. “Thank you.” She gave him a brave smile.

“For what?” He asked easing back against the seat beside her.

She looked down at their entwined hands and felt the sides of his fingers with her own. Then she brought her eyes back to stare earnestly into his. “You have no idea how good it felt when I woke up in that Emergency Room and saw you.” She told him.

“Better than when I got there and saw you lying in that bed.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Brienne chuckled regretfully. “I guess so.” She gave him an apologetic grin. “I know you had maneuvers tonight. I know that’s important.” She looked at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry I ruined your training.” Brienne apologized.

Tormund moved closer to her and brought his hand up along Brienne’s neck until he softly cradled her head. “Nothing is more important to me than you.” He assured her. “Fire breathing fucking dragons couldn’t have kept me from you.” He vowed, nestling his forehead gently against hers.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you there.” Brienne whispered, unable to find her voice for fear she would begin to cry.

“That’s something you’ll never have to worry about.” He promised. His face hovered close to hers for a moment. Drinking in the nearness of her, he found her waiting lips with his and kissed her deeply. She melted into the familiar thrill of their passion. She would never get tired of it.

When they finally parted, he gave her a quick raise of his brow and a sweet nod. “Wait here.” He told her, opening the driver’s side door and jumping down to the pavement below.

Tormund walked quickly around the rear of the truck to the passenger side and opened Brienne’s door, gallantly. Reaching for her hand, he offered his arm to her support as she climbed gingerly down from her seat, grateful for his help. He wrapped his arms around her and they made their way slowly along the path that cut the edge of their backyard and led to the welcoming threshold of their back door. Tormund unlocked the door and reached inside to flip on the kitchen light before holding open the doorway fully, and helping Brienne inside.

Brienne felt as though she had been gone for years, and she breathed deep the welcoming aroma of fresh laundry, vanilla warm oil burners, and what was left of the new smell of their remodeled hard wood floor. Oh, finally she was home. Brienne closed her eyes and stood for a moment, letting the comfort soak back into her skin. Behind her she heard Tormund in the mud room hanging her jacket and purse on the hooks by the door, and tossing his keys on the dryer. She smiled, thinking of all the times she had asked him not to do that for fear of chipping the paint on the appliance. Tonight, she did not care. The simple, recognizable, mundaneness of his actions were exactly what she needed. She realized how lucky she was still to be alive and she did not want to take anything for granted.

As Brienne stood there, lost in her gratitude and her pleasure at being home, she felt Tormund bring his arm up her back and draw her near. “You alright?” He asked, trying to sound more relaxed than worried.

Brienne nodded. “Yeah.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Just happy to be home.” She leaned against him luxuriously.

“Come with me.” Tormund beckoned, never taking his protective strong arm from around her. He led Brienne around the granite slab of the kitchen island, through the dining room, and into the open expanse of their living room. He sat her carefully down on the couch, and perched on the coffee table in front of her.

He caressed her knees, and moved his hands down her calves massaging as he went. “Lean back.” He ordered, grinning. She smiled, watching him care for her, and did as she was told. He lifted her feet one at a time, removing her shoes and shifting her lower body to the side to lay her legs out over the cushions. It took everything he had to resist the urge to tickle her toes.

“Cup of tea?” He offered, sweetly.

Brienne sighed, and stretched already relaxing. “Yes. Please.” She relished the thought.

His eyes sparkled as he rose and began to return to the kitchen, happy he could bring her such relief. Brienne caught his hand softly before he moved away from where she lay. “Decaf.” She reminded him lovingly.

Tormund leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Your wish is my command, My Lady.” He teased, and was rewarded with her adorable giggle as he left the living room.

He returned a few minutes later carrying Brienne’s favorite mug filled and steaming with her favorite herbal blend, and a brown long neck bottle for himself. For a moment she looked so peaceful, laying there with her eyes closed that he thought she had fallen asleep. Then she breathed a deep contented sigh, and graced him with a gaze from her exquisite blue eyes.

He set the tea down on the coffee table long enough to switch the cup around so Brienne could take it by the handle, and held it up for her grasp. Then he nestled himself onto the other end of the sofa, picking up her legs, and laying them over his own as he sat. Brienne smiled her thank you and took a long careful sip of the comforting brew. Again she sighed as the dark liquid warmed her insides. Tormund hoisted his beer and then grinned wickedly. He took one of her feet in his hands and began to massage her tired arch. Brienne moaned with delight and stretched the tension from the rest of her body. They sat in comfortable silence for awhile. Brienne sipping her tea. Tormund gulping his beer and rubbing her feet. They both wanted to discuss the events of the evening, but neither was willing to broach the topic. Instead they simply enjoyed each other.

When their drinks were empty and Brienne’s arches were sufficiently relieved of knots, Tormund took the empties back to the kitchen and returned to Brienne. “How about I make you a bath upstairs?” He offered, holding out his hands.

Brienne happily accepted and let him pull her to her feet. “You’re going to spoil me.” She smiled at him.

Drawing nearer to her, Tormund brought his lips to meet hers and kissed her deeply. “I hope so.” He grinned when he had finished his taste. Then he carefully helped her up the steps.

Their bedroom was down the short second floor hallway, and was Brienne’s self proclaimed sanctuary. Her favorite thing to do was to spend an entire day lounging with Tormund under the the covers of their thick overstuffed bed. The bath he suggested, sounded wonderful, but she couldn’t wait to snuggle against him and fall asleep in his arms. He smirked as if he were reading her mind, and led her into the master bathroom.

By the light that trailed in from the bedroom Tormund sat Brienne down carefully on the side of the oversized bathtub. Kissing her again, he bid her to wait there. Taking the lighter she kept in the little alabaster box on a shelf, he lit all of the flowery scented candles she had strategically placed around room. He would not allow the harsh glare of the vanity lights to strain her eyes. She smiled playfully as she watched him. She had not realized he had payed such close attention to her relaxation rituals.

Returning to Brienne, Tormund kneeled in front of her. “Sorry there’s no wine tonight.” He chuckled, turning on the hot water to fill the tub.

Brienne nodded her agreement, “That’s alright.” She assured him. “Probably not a good idea with the painkillers they gave me at the hospital.” She smiled. “Besides the tea was perfect.” She told him gratefully, running her fingers along his jaw and tickling his face through this beard.

“I’m glad.” He smiled, relieved he could make her feel better. He picked up the fancy bottle of purple bubble bath that sat on the rim of the tub, and poured a little into the water. It was not enough to make the mountain of foam that Brienne usually drew, but she did not care and she certainly did not tell him. She sat relaxing against the tile wall as the lavender aroma of the soap began to rise on the steam from the water. She reveled in the fact that she was the luckiest woman in the world.

It was as Tormund began to undo the buttons of her silky blouse that Brienne not only noticed how quiet he had become, but also that his hands were trembling.

Taking hold of his fingers, she brought them up next to her heart. “Sweetie. What’s the matter?” She begged.

For a moment, he simply shook his head and studied the rippling water, unable to speak, and unwilling to look at her. She softly placed her hand under his face and brought his eyes up to meet hers. That was when she noticed the tears falling down his cheeks. “What is it?” She implored again, concerned.

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to trouble you with my worries.” He tried to reassure her.

“Honey. Your worries are my worries.” Brienne reminded him, holding even more tightly to his hands.

Tormund swallowed hard, and stayed quiet for a moment longer. His eyes washing over Brienne as if he were trying to memorize her. “I could have lost you tonight.” He whispered in terror of what the night might have held.

Brienne closed her eyes and let the breath go slowly out of her lungs. She realized how terrified he must have been when they had called him from the hospital. She couldn’t imagine how her whole world would have would have fallen apart if it had been her, arriving to find him lying unconscious in that Emergency Room. She had been trying not to think about the fact that Renly’s killer might have easily taken her life. It was Tormund who gave voice to those fears as he continued.

“Whoever stabbed Baratheon was in that room with you while you laid there, knocked unconscious.” He shuddered. “There was nothing to stop them from doing the same to you, or anything else they wanted.” His jaw clenched, imagining an unknown shadow of a figure touching her body and then running a knife through her.

Brienne shook her head. “They didn’t touch me. Not that way.” She tried to comfort him, “They checked me at the hospital. There was no sign of...” she trailed off.

“But they might have.” Tormund’s tone grew even more urgent. “They could have, and I was miles away from you.” He lowered his eyes, unable to meet her gaze.

Brienne brought her hands to his face, and held him gently. “You are always with me.” She promised him, trying to sooth his fears.

“Tonight, I wasn’t close enough.” He drew her to him and lowered his head to her lap. She bent to meet his embrace.

“You came when I needed you.” Brienne whispered to him. He could not see the pensive expression on her face. She had done her best not think about her attack until now. Tormund was right. They could have done anything to her, but they had not. Certainly anyone willing to drive a knife into someone’s body deep enough to kill him, would not have been dissuaded from doing the same to the only possible witness. There had to be a reason they left her alive. ‘But why?’ She wondered to herself.

At that moment Tormund reached over and turned off the running water, it having nearly reached the top of the tub. Obviously trying to put his darker thoughts about the evening aside, he looked up and smiled at Brienne. “Your bath is ready.” He offered.

She understood that he was trying to change the subject, at least for now, and she loved him for it. Brienne put her suspicions to the back of her mind, to think about when there were less appealing distractions at hand. She smiled adoringly at him, and began to stand. “Help me?” She cooed.

“Of course.” He agreed readily.

Brienne rose to her feet, and Tormund gently assisted her in undressing. She stood before him, gloriously naked, and gave him the seductive look that always made him weak. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her passionately, relishing every ounce of relief the night had finally brought him, and every inch of her. He helped her drape her long leg over the side of the tub and climb in. She slowly sat and laid back against the rolled up towel he had placed along the rim to cushion her injured head. The low sultry moan she expressed as she slid into the warm water set him on fire. He wanted to make love to her. Yet, he knew he needed to restrain himself. She had been though an ordeal, and that would be her call to make tonight.

“Do you want to be alone?” He asked obligingly as he knelt beside the tub.

Brienne regarded him with a playful smile finding her lips. “Why don’t you go change, and then you can get my hard to reach places.” She suggested.

“I like that offer.” Tormund smiled, bending to kiss her fingers before tearing himself away from her and exiting the bathroom.

Brienne could hear him rustling around in the bedroom for a few minutes, and the thought of him removing his fatigues and walking through the room naked, which was his usual routine, was making her miss him. Just as she was about to call for him, he appeared in the doorway. He walked slowly toward the tub, almost teasing her. He wore only gray flannel pajama bottoms, having decided against the option of a shirt. He hoped it would not be on for long anyway. He was right.

Brienne’s eyes grew big and needful watching the muscles in his chest outlined by the flickering candlelight as he made his way toward her. “Better?” He asked, hopefully.

She studied his frame for a moment, and then nodded. “Just one thing.” She teased.

“And what would that be?” He thought he might already know where her plan was heading.

Brienne reached up and hooked one finger into the waistband of his flannels, pulling that side down below his hipbone. “Lose these and join me.” She smiled. “The water’s fine.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Tormund eagerly complied, ripping the pants downward from his body and tossing them in a heap across the room. He gingerly stepped into the tub as she made room for him.

The bathtub was very large, and had plenty of room for two. That was the reason they had chosen it when they had remodeled the master bathroom. They had shared it on more than one occasion. Tonight, Tormund nestled into the water behind Brienne and drew her across his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She sank back into the warm, supportive wall of his body. They lay there in the fragrant water, quietly relaxing with each other for a long while until finally Brienne turned her face toward his and reached for a kiss. He met her with equal fervor. His hand began exploring her body as she pressed her legs open, beckoning him in that direction. He happily accepted the invitation, sliding his fingers into the delicate folds between her legs, searching for the spot he knew would drive her wild. Finding it with practiced ease, he began to pleasure her with his fingers. His other hand working the slippery skin of her breasts, as his tongue traced hers. The shuttering of her body, and the rapidness of her breathing informed him that was exactly what she wanted tonight. He moved his fingers deeper, entering her. He worked her to a near frenzy with an expert touch. When he was finished, she rolled softly onto her side toward him. In doing so she felt the hardness of his need for her press against the very place his fingers had been only moments before. She kissed him again with a lusty madness.

“Take me to bed.” She begged, when they parted.

He stood out of the water carefully. Brienne watched as the warm droplets trailed down edges of his muscles. He stepped over the tub and quickly dried himself with a towel hastily grabbed from the chrome bar on the wall. Watching her breathelessly, Tormund reached down and helped Brienne stand. It was his turn to marvel at the delicious lines of her body, glistening and wet from their shared bath. He held tightly to her gentle hands as she stepped from the tub, not willing to let her even waver, much less fall. Unable to wait, he cupped her chin in his hand and place the lightest, most tender kiss upon her soft lips. She melted into it like the rivulets now dripping from her body to the floor. Brienne moaned her soft approval as she parted his lips with her tongue, begging for more.

Tormund grabbed another towel, and wrapped it around her before she could begin to shiver in the air. The thick, luxurious terry cloth felt heavenly against Brienne’s skin as he slid the towel down her long body. He kneeled in front of her, almost praying. Loosing his grip on the towel, he let it fall to the ground between them and drew his hands up the side of her legs until his finger cupped her firm buttocks. His hand explored the smooth round curves of her ass, and he felt his body again begin to react to the sight and the feel of hers. He leaned closer to her, his face level with her hips, and kissed the skin below her belly button. The fur of his beard grazed the place where she was most sensitive to his touch, and she giggled with excitement. He growled in response, enjoying his teasing of her.

Smiling invitingly, Tormund rose quickly, blew out the candles that lit the room, and gathered Brienne in his arms. She submitted eagerly to his wordless offer, relaxing into his grasp. Their lips finding each other once more in the near darkness, it was his turn to voice his anticipation with a low raspy groan deep in his throat. His arms full of the woman he adored, he walked slowly to their bed. He had already turned down the covers when he was changing, and mounded the pillows to protect Brienne’s injury. They enjoyed another long kiss as he laid her carefully down among the sheets, and knelt over her.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Tormund asked Brienne, wanting to be certain.

She raised her arms, and stretched extravagantly as she wrapped in her yearning grasp around his neck and drew him to her. “Ah, Ha.” She bit her lip and nodded, giving him a captivating look.

Tormund lowered himself to her alluring body, and Brienne thrilled to the feel of his weight upon her. Again their hungry mouths explored each other, as he traced the line of her ribcage up to her luscious breasts. She drew in a lustful breath as he began to work the flesh there. He reveled in how they pressed against his chest, heaving with the gasps his actions were producing from her lungs. Again, the only voice she could find was a pleasured moan as his fingers circled her tight nipples, pinching and playing. He moved his lips from hers to kiss down the length of her neck, and trail his tongue around those breasts which his hands hand enjoyed moments earlier. Bracing himself on the mattress, he relied on his mouth and his tongue to draw another sweet groan from her. Brienne leaned her head back, and he felt her body tense with pleasured hopefulness as he tantalized her. She raised her knee, drawing a long lean leg from beneath him and bringing it up the side of his hip. Needful and wanting, she draped her leg around him. The movement bringing his hardness to rest between her legs. The wetness of her need against his own sensitive skin deepened his arousal and she felt him thicken enticingly against her delicate folds.

“Gods! You are so damn sexy.” He exclaimed against her neck, ready.

Brienne curled herself into him, pleading. “Oh.” She exclaimed gasping. “I need you. Now.” She held his face up to her own and kissed him long and deep, moaning loudly as he entered her. He needed no further invitation.

He pressed her body against the mattress with his own as he moved slowly in and out of her. Her groans caught in her throat, losing herself in their passion. Their bodies writhed in flawless fluid motion as they entwined together as one. They could not tell where one stopped and the other started. It was as if realizing how close they had come to losing each other, had made them more determined never to be parted. Tormund reacted to the feel of Brienne in his arms, driving harder and deeper into her. Her low passionate moans became urgent wails. She was loving what he was doing to her, and begged him for more. The rhythmic music their bodies made was overwhelming as they took each other to the edge. He greedily took as much of her as he could. She hungrily gave what he asked for, her loving need equal to his. His body occupied every inch of her as she tightened around him. Needing more of her, he brought her legs closer around him, and she raised her hips ready to accept what he had to give. His lunging quickened as he felt her insistence growing.

Probing and retreating, his heart racing, breath blasting from his lungs, a lustful groan rose from his throat as he enjoyed her. She answered his call with a passionate cry of her own. Suddenly he needed to fill her. Her own forces rose to their climax and she dug her fingers into his back wanting to explode. Their hot lustful panting mixed together. The taste of each other’s sweet kiss played on their lips. Together, their bodies ached to complete their passions. Brienne’s back arched, eager to meet Tormund’s strong forceful pulse. At last, he tensed and exploded into her with a sensual groan. She felt her own warm flow erupt from its source, her body shuttering to his rhythm as they came together. Still holding onto each other, trembling with what remained of the sensation they had brought each other, they laid together in the darkness never wanting to part.

Satiated for the time being, and drained from their passion Brienne and Tormund lay in the dark clinging to each other, hearts racing, trying to catch their breath. With a reluctant sigh, Tormund rolled off of Brienne and onto his back, a glorious smile on his face. She followed his movement, draping her long leg over his thigh and snuggling into the crook of his shoulder as he brought his arm protectively around her. She nuzzled closer, and laid her head on his chest listening to the love song of his heartbeat, and enjoying his kisses at her temple.

She caressed his ribs, and sighed contentedly. “I love you so much.” She declared, dreamily.

Tormund settled his lips into her hair, and held them there for a moment drinking her in. “I love you.” He whispered against her skin. His voice had an earnest seriousness she had scarce ever heard from him, and it made her feel protected and safe. It was as if anything could happen in the world outside, and it would be alright as long as they were together. He drew the comforter up around her. She lay there in his embrace, her mind content and secure. Brienne closed her eyes, happy and safe, and drifted off to sleep next to the man she adored.

Tormund would not find sleep yet for hours, as he lay next to Brienne, cherishing the feeling of her in his embrace. He tried to ignore the fear that still plagued him that she could have been killed that evening in Renly’s office. He could not ease the anger that seethed within him at whomever had hurt her. She was his whole world, and he would allow nothing to ever get that near to taking her away from him again. He watched her sleep peacefully beside him. He listened to the rhythmic lilt of her breathing. His heart beat in time with hers. His soul overflowed with love for her. He vowed to the Gods that he would somehow find those who had done this to her, and swore that he would kill anyone who ever tried to take her from him again.  
——————————————  
The drive to the west side of town seemed to take forever, but Jaime Lannister attributed that to his preoccupied mind as he returned to his condo. Feeling like the walls of his home would close in on him, he had opted for a walk in the dark before entering. He hoped it would clear his mind. It did no good. His thoughts replayed his interrogation of his former girlfriend, Brienne Tarth, earlier that evening. She had been the last person he had expected to see, and certainly the last he ever thought he would have to question about a murder. Of course she was innocent, he knew that. Brienne would never kill someone in cold blood, especially one of her oldest and dearest friends. However, he had been forced to keep up at least the appearance of impartiality. Even as he pretended to record her words, he was swearing internally that he would clear her name, and find the piece of shit who had hurt her. He would make them pay.

The darkness around him was comforting. It matched his mood, and the grim look on his face. Jaime’s mind traveled back to the night he had first declared his feelings for Brienne. The memory of a smile crossed his face, recalling how she had met his declaration with one of her own, and how they had shared such a wonderful night of passion. His time with her had been the most beautiful of his life. He had realized long ago that it was the only time he had been happy. He missed her. He missed them.

Jaime wished he had told Cersei to go to the Hells when she demanded that he leave Brienne. She had laughed at Jaime when he told her of his feelings for Brienne. She said that his attentions should lie with the family, and that he should not be distracted by one of their employees. It was beneath him, she had scoffed. Cersei had made it an ultimatum that he either break it off, or having his lover fired would be the least of the worries she would create for Brienne. Jaime understood that it would not only be the loss her job that Brienne would suffer, but her entire reputation. Cersei would destroy her. Jaime had feared she might even do more than that.

As always he had allowed Cersei to control him. He had never had the will to fight her. Even when they were small, he followed her like a puppy. They were twins. Closer than other siblings. Even their own brother, Tyrion, was more of an outsider, at least when she was around. In many ways he and Cersei had been closer than many couples. More-so than many husbands and wives. They had never crossed that line, but as they grew he had the feeling they that if he had tried, she would have been more than willing. When she had married, Jaime knew it was for money and power. Their closeness had never waivered. In fact she seemed to draw even nearer to him. Sensing that she needed his support, he vowed to do anything for her. So, when she told him to leave, he had left. He watched bitterly, later that week as Brienne had been unceremoniously let go anyway. She left the Black Stag offices, and walked out of his life.

Finally climbing the steps of his building, he unlocked his door, and was met by the usual cold silence inside. The only sound penetrating the interior of his residence was that of his keys which he slammed down the counter. He made his way to the refrigerator without turning on the lights and retrieved a cold beer. Throwing his jacket and tie over a dining chair, Jaime twisted the cap from the tall brown bottle in his hand. He sagged down on the couch, and leaned his feet up on the coffee table. Taking a long swallow of the beer, he realized he was in for another sleepless night dreaming of Brienne. The images of the evening refused to give him peace.

When he walked into the Emergency Room a few hours earlier and saw Brienne bleeding and unconscious, it was all Jaime could do not to gather her in his arms and declare that it had all been a horrible mistake. For a few moments, as the medical personnel rushed in and out tending to her injuries, he had been alone with her. How he had wanted to kiss her, to stroke her hair, to be the one she saw when she regained consciousness. Then Giantsbane had showed up, and Brienne awoke to him.

Jaime had been forced to watch their loving greeting. The tenderness and caring between Brienne and Tormund Giantsbane played over in his mind. They obviously loved each other. Jaime knew he should not be jealous. He had no right. He was the one who had left. He was glad Brienne had found happiness with someone who obviously cared so much for her. He allowed himself the relief that she did not spend her life in miserable regret, like him. Gods, if he could only have that one moment back, the instant in his life that he had decided to put his sister above the woman he loved. If given the chance he would run back to Brienne, crawl in bed beside her, and make love to her for the rest of his life. For a moment, a fleeting question crossed his mind. He wondered if it would ever be possible that Brienne might leave Giantsbane and take him back. Gods, he still loved her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the viscous attack on Brienne, and the murder of Renly Baratheon, she and Tormund receive an unexpected visitor. 
> 
> Sandor attempts to quiet Sansa’s fears, while Gregor overhears something interesting.
> 
> Cersei demands that Jaime arrest both Brienne and Sansa.

“That’ll be all, Clegane.” Barely looking up from her desk, Cersei Lannister waved her hand in the air at Gregor. She dismissed him like a servant instead a well trained S.W.A.T officer simply pulling overtime working her security detail.

Gregor’s duty this day had been to guard the wife of the Chief Executive Officer of the Black Stag Corporation. It was clear that Robert Baratheon had no interest in his family’s company, and Cersei Lannister-Baratheon was the one who actually ran the entire enterprise. During the morning hours, Gregor had guarded her while she visited several banks in the city, and signed a multitude of papers, apparently to send funds overseas. Normally, he would have paid little attention to matters regarding her financial dealings, but he had promised his brother that he would keep his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary when it came to the Lannisters. As the time worn on, Gregor began to wonder why someone with the resources of two powerful families at her disposal would need to personally see to wiring money anywhere. He put his suspicions to the back of his mind to mention to Sandor later. For his brother, he would have done no favors, but he was certain that Sansa Stark had nothing to do with the Baratheon kid’s murder. He told himself that as a cop, he was ensuring the justice was served.

Gregor nodded his leave to Cersei, and walked toward the exit of her office. He stopped in his tracks, as he nearly ran into Jaime Lannister bounding through the doorway. He moved aside to let Cersei’s twin brother into the room, and saw her look up from the corner of his eye. The expression on her face was nothing short of wrath. She began yelling before Gregor had even closed the door behind him. He looked up and down the hall once the latch clicked. No one else was near.The sound of voices traveling through the wooden panel peaked his curiosity. For some reason, he felt as though his should listen, in case their conversation might touch upon the situation with his brother’s girlfriend. Against his better judgement, he eavesdropped.  
———————————  
Inside the office, Cersei hardly gave Jaime enough time to enter before she began to berate him. “Why didn’t you arrest that woman?” She shouted. “Why is Brienne Tarth not in jail?” She questioned him angrily, her face sneering at the mention of the woman with whom she knew her brother was still in love.

“Arrest her for what?” Jaime shot back, overly defensive at Cersei’s criticism of his police work, and her eagerness to see Brienne punished for a crime he knew she did not commit.

“For killing Renly!” Cersei rolled her eyes in disbelief of what she saw as Jaime’s gullibility.

“There’s no evidence that she did anything in that office, except get knocked unconscious.” He kept his own with Cersei as his stomach wrenched, remembering Brienne unconscious in the Emergency Room just the evening before. “Besides, Brienne would never hurt Renly.” Jaime asserted. “He was her friend, since childhood.” He wanted Cersei to see reason.

“You would try to make her seem innocent.” Cersei glared at him.

“Yes.” Jaime acknowledged with an exaggerated nod. “That’s how the law works. Innocent until proved guilty.”

“Oh please.” Cersei scoffed. “As a detective, you’d make a great boyfriend.” She mocked jealously.

Jaime’s jaw steeled. ‘I was her boyfriend until I was stupid enough to let you get the way.’ He kicked himself silently. Aloud, all said was to remind his sister of the facts.

“She was knocked out...from behind.” He told her. “She certainly couldn’t do that to herself.” His voice was ice. He had not slept the previous night after leaving Brienne at the hospital. Every time he closed his eyes, images of the love they had once shared plagued him.

“Maybe someone helped her. Did you think about that? Detective?” She jeered.

“What?” Jaime squinted at her. “Who?” He wondered for a moment if his sister was delusional. She was definitely reaching

“That little Stark bitch.” Cersei spoke up. “I still don’t understand why she’s not in jail for murdering my son.” Her voice cracked as she spewed venom at Jaime.

Jaime let his anger fade a bit. He could understand that Cersei was still grieving the loss of Joffrey. He could make allowances for her illogical thinking. Jaime slowly crossed around to the other side of the desk and sat on the edge in front of her. He lifted her hands from the papers on which she had been writing. Taking the pen from her fingers, he laid it aside, and held onto her protectively.

“Why are you even here?” Jaime asked her. “You just lost you child. You should be taking time off.” He suggested.

“Somebody’s got to run this company.” Cersei explained bitterly. Jaime knew that her husband was very little interested in either his business or his family. He nodded understandingly. Perhaps working was keeping Cersei’s mind off the events in her personal life, he tried to tell himself. He knew that she had never been fond of Sansa Stark. Still, he could not comprehend why she was so insistent that Brienne had killed Renly. Surely she was not so vindictive and jealous that she would see an innocent woman wrongly sent to prison.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t arrest them.” Cersei began to cry, knowing she could always get what she wanted from Jaime by letting her tears flow. “I am sure they did this. Both of them.” She accused. “You’re protecting her.” She cried.

Jaime’s thoughts were racing. He knew Cersei had never liked Brienne, but did she really want his former lover imprisoned? Did she want Brienne out of his life that badly?” He answered her without confirming or denying her suspicions. “Brienne is involved with someone else, very seriously involved.” He told Cersei. It killed him to say those words aloud.

She looked up at him, hurt. “If she wanted you back, you would run to her. I know you would.” She charged.

‘Gods, yes I would.’ Jaime thought to himself. ‘And this time I would never let her go.’ His heart felt hollow, thinking about his lost chance with Brienne. He had seen her with Giantsbane the evening before. He remembered how loving and close they were. Brienne’s attention had been riveted on her lover. Jaime felt she did not even realize he was in the room.

“That won’t happen. She loves Tormund Giantsbane.” Jaime told Cersei, trying to hide the pain in his voice. She heard it despite his efforts.

Cersei turned on a dime, her anger growing volatile again. She ripped her hands from his. “Brienne Tarth, and Sansa Stark need to be in jail.” She declares venomously. “You need to arrest them!” She swore.

Jaime did not answer. He exhaled at the hopeless situation in which he found himself. He had always been at the mercy of Cersei’s wishes, to the point that he had even give up the woman he loved for her. Neither Brienne nor Sansa had committed these crimes. He would investigate the murders. alright. However, his reason now was to prove Brienne’s innocence. Hopefully he would find evidence that Sansa did not murder Joffrey as well. Even if it made him biased as a police officer. Even if it went against Cersei. He knew one thing for certain, he would protect Brienne. He did not care of it cost him his job, or relationship with his sister.  
———————————-  
Outside the office Gregor Clegane had heard every word that had been exchanged between the Lannister twins. Although he could not profess to  
liking the man, what Jaime Lannister had said was correct. There was no reason for a police officer to arrest anyone without sufficient evidence. He was not sure why Cersei was so determined that Sansa Stark and Brienne Tarth be arrested. It would seem to him that she would want to know the truth, at least about the murder of her son. He could not understand how this was not the case. Cersei had already proclaimed herself judge and jury, and was determined that her brother be her henchman regardless of the evidence, or lack there of.

Gregor turned and strode hurriedly down the hall to the elevator. The last thing he needed was to be discovered spying on the Lannisters. He supposed he would have to swallow his pride and pay a visit to his brother. He was not sure if Sandor would find this little bit of information important to clearing his girl’s name, but he most definitely found it odd.  
————————————————-  
“No.” Sansa spoke urgently into her cell phone as Sandor filled her cup with the morning coffee he had prepared for her. “No. Going into the office is the last thing you need to do.” Her forehead was lined with worry. “I want you to take some time, as much as you need, until you feel better.” Sansa’s voice echoed the apprehension on her face. Sandor eyed her with concern.

Sandor sat across from her at the little table by the window in his tiny apartment. Sansa finished her conversation and swiped the screen of her cell phone to hang up. She sighed and lowered her head into her fingers, dejectedly. He pushed aside his own untouched coffee and reached across the tabletop. Taking her other hand in his, he held it tightly.

“What is it?” He leaned closer to her.

Sansa looked up at him, thankful he had insisted she stay with at his place. “Brienne was attacked last night.” She informed him, worriedly.

“What?” Sandor questioned in disbelief. “Attacked?” He repeated, unsure he had heard her correctly.

Brienne was Sansa’s best friend. Sandor himself had worked with her during the time they were both employed by Black Stag. Sandor had always found Brienne to be a no-nonsense professional where matters of security were concerned. He was glad she was in charge of Sansa’s safety. Brienne’s boyfriend, Tormund Giantsbane, had been a buddy of Sandor’s when he was in the army, if Sandor could be described as having buddies.  
Sansa had often insisted on couples dinners, summer evenings by the fire pit in Brienne and Tormund’s backyard, watching games at the sports bar, and even a few out of town weekends. He would not admit it, but Sandor had enjoyed many of these time, especially watching Sansa’s delight at the company of friends. The news of Brienne’s attack was extremely concerning, and was made even more so coming on the heals of suspicion for Joffrey Baratheon’s murder turning toward Sansa.

“Is she alright?” He questioned, uncharacteristically concerned.

Sansa took a sip of her coffee. “She has a concussion, but she’s resting at home.” She relayed the details of her call with Brienne. “Tormund’s taking some leave he’s built up to stay with her.

Sandor nodded. “Good.” He knew that would help ease Sansa’s worry about her friend. ‘How did this happen?” He asked, imagining his reaction if someone had done something like that to his Little Bird.

Sansa looked up him, her eyes tearing at the thought of what might have happened to her dear friend. “She was knocked unconscious in Renly Baratheon’s office.” She relayed what Brienne had told her over the phone.

“In Baratheon’s office?” Sandor asked, not comprehending how such a thing could occur with all the security surrounding the Black Stag building.

Sansa nodded. “Someone hit her from behind and knocked her out.” She grew quiet and looked down for a moment. “Then whoever it was, stabbed Renly.” Sansa choked. “He’s dead.”

Sandor raised his eyebrow, shocked at Sansa’s news. “Why was she even there?” He asked. “After what that Lannister bitch did, letting her go, I would think Black Stag would be the last place Brienne would want to be.” He knew he would never cross the doorstep of that place again if he could avoid it, and he had left of his own free will.

“She went to talk to Renly about me.” Sansa report, feeling guilty.

“You?” Sandor sounded shocked.

Sansa nodded. “She went there to ask if he had heard anything at Black Stag that might clear me of suspicion in Joffrey’s murder.” She shook her head. “Then somebody did this to her.” Through her guilt, Sansa could hardly finish.

Sandor scooted closer to Sansa and wrapped his arms around her. “What happened to Brienne wasn’t your fault.” She gave him a halfhearted smile, but did not look up. He continued to try to ease her mind. He could not bare to see her distressed. “She’s a grown woman. She went there because she wanted to, not because you asked her to.” He comforted. “Renly was her friend, for Gods’ sake.”

Her mind understood that Sandor was right, but her heart was still filled with fear over the unspoken possibilities. She turned her head to him and buried her face in his neck. He squeezed her tighter, never wanting to let her go. She clung to him like a lifeline. While it was just her, she was certain that the truth would be uncovered, but now other people were involved, and more people were dead.

“Brienne said that she was questioned last night at the ER, like she was a suspect.” Sansa said with wide eyed disbelief.

“Questioned? By the police?” Sandor’s forehead wrinkled.

Sansa took another quick sip of her coffee. “Yes. And you’re not going to believe by whom.” She stared at him intently, and did not wait for his conjecture. “Jaime Lannister.”

Sandor rolled his eyes. He knew Brienne had a history with Lannister, but he was just a little too close to Black Stag to have any business working the case. He gulped loudly from his mug, and set it back down on the table. He fingered the rim, while his eyes explore the wall behind Sansa. “Well, the plot thickens.” He remarked.

“It doesn’t make any sense.” Sansa shook her head. “Renly was so kind, and Brienne thought the world of him. Who would want to hurt him?” Her forehead lined with worry and confusion

“I don’t know.” He held her in his gaze. “But, now that’s two Baratheon cunts dead.” Sandor kept count. “You can’t tell me that’s a coincidence.”

Her eyes bore into him, searching for what it all meant. “What now?” She wondered aloud.

He drew her closer and kissed her promisingly. Than he took her face in his hand and held her as if he could make whole world go away. “Nothing has changed.” He vowed. “No one is going to hurt you.” He swore as he held her close.

Just as he was settling in to enjoy the feeling of holding his Little Bird in his arms, Sandor’s cell phone rang in his pocket. “Damn.” He cursed. He pulled out the phone and scowled when he saw his brother’s number. He wanted to let it ring, but wondered if it had something to do with the murders, with the favor for which he had begged from Gregor.

He touched the screen to answer, and spoke gruffly. “What?” He barked into the phone. Sansa watched as the sneer continued to play on Sandor’s face, but was slowly replaced by interest. “Yeah. We’ll be here.” He grumbled and hung up, tossing his phone down on the table.

He looked at Sansa, and tried to give her a hopeful smile. “Well.” He sighed, and looked at her apologetically. “My brother wants to stop by later. Sorry.” He croaked sheepishly. Sansa grinned and nestled her face to his.  
——————————-  
Brienne reclined against Tormund, her legs across the cushions of the sofa on their shady patio. He had seen to her every need since she awoke in his arms, and they were basking in the late morning light, as well as the closeness of each other. Brienne was still suffering a strange lightheaded feeling from the concussion she received the previous night, and was enjoying taking the day easy in the arms of the man she loved. She was still in her pajamas and robe, sipping the last few drops of tea he had made for her when they heard their doorbell ring through the screen of their open back door. They craned their necks and looked at each other, dreading who might be at their front porch.

Tormund kissed Brienne’s temple and eased her back onto the cushions as he stood. “You stay here. I’ll see who it is.” He said, ready to send away anyone who might cause her more distress.

Brienne nodded and watch him disappear into the house, enjoying the view of him. She tried to relax, although her mind was troubled, thinking it might be more questions from the police about her attack. She hoped it wasn’t Jaime Lannister who had rung their doorbell, Tormund might feel justified in finishing the fight he had almost started with her ex in the Emergency Room the night before.

She heard voices inside the house. Brienne relaxed as she heard that Tormund’s voice was calm. Apparently it was someone he trusted since their muffled conversation seemed to grow louder. They must be walking through the house on their way to the backyard. Brienne saw Tormund’s face in the screen door first. He looked at her with a compassionate and troubled look. She thought his eyes seemed a little wet. She sat up as he stepped back, and pushed open the door for their guest to walk through first. Brienne could not hold back her tears, which began to flow freely, when she saw the mournful expression worn by Loras Tyrell.

Loras and Renly had been partners for years. Brienne could not remember a time when the couple had not been together. The two had been extremely close, and were as deliriously happy as she and Tormund. He was undoubtedly still reeling from Renly’s death only the night before, and had been a topic of conversation between herself and Tormund that morning. Loras was the last person she expected to see.

Brienne held her arms open wide ready to comfort Loras as he rushed to her. They wrapped each other in an understanding embrace and began to sob. Tormund stood back and allow Brienne and Loras their moment of grief. He shuttered, thinking how close he had come to mourning Brienne this day. He thanked the Gods she was still with him, but felt terrible for Loras.

“What are you doing here?” Brienne choked. “You should be with family.” She told Loras worriedly.

“You are family.” Loras replied warmly through his sobbing. “Renly would have wanted me to check on you, to make sure you’re alright.” He looked at her with pained eyes.

Brienne nodded. “I’m going to be fine.” She assured him. “It’s you I’m worried about.” She held tight to his arm and guided him to sit in the large comfortable chair bedside the sofa. Brienne followed, perching on the edge of the bench cushions. Tormund sat at her side, running his hand rhythmically up and down her arm trying to ease her.

Loras stared down at the pavers, obviously not focusing on anything. “It’s not real yet.” He voiced, his emotions numb. “Nothing has sunk in.”

Brienne nodded. She was feeling the same. “I know. Me either.” She agreed, “I keep thinking he’ll text me, or send out one of those stupid Snapchats of his.” She and Loras both chuckled at the memory. She was glad she bring at least a small smile to his face.

Loras’s grin disappeared almost as soon at it formed. He looked seriously at Brienne. “I heard the police questioned you.” He looked at her sympathetically. “They think you’re a suspect or something.” He squirmed a little.

“Loras.” Brienne shook her head, her words unwilling to form. “Renly was one of my best friends.” Brienne replied, her voice faltering. “I would never...” She began. Tormund tensed beside her.

Loras reached forward and took her hands tightly. “Gods Brienne. I know you had nothing to do with this, other than getting hurt yourself.” He regarded her with compassion. “The police are full of shit.” He declared.

“Thank you, Loras.” Brienne gave him a brave smile.

He nodded, and sighed deeply. “I just don’t understand.” He began to cry again. “Renly wouldn’t have hurt anyone. Who would do this to him?” He questioned, knowing Brienne could not give him an answer. She shook her head, unable to speak.

It was Tormund who broke the silence. He clasped Brienne protectively to him. He could not bare to see her grief, nor could he forget or simply live with the fact of how someone had hurt her. “Those fool police may not have a clue who did this.” He stated, his jaw setting purposefully. “But I swear to both of you that I sure as the Hell’s intend to find out.” He looked passionately at Brienne. “When I do, that miserable piece of shit better hope I don’t get to the them first.” Brienne watched Tormund proudly. She had never heard such conviction and hatred in his voice before. She knew he meant every word.  
———————————  
Sandor and Sansa had finished the morning trying to put recent events to the back of their mind, and both failing in their attempts. He had been on the phone to Beric Dondarrion, trying to get as many facts about the attack on Brienne as he could. He was positive it was somehow related to Sansa’s suspect status, but as yet he could not quite decipher how the two were connected. Sansa had tried, rather unsuccessfully, to get some work done remotely for Stark Inc., but had finally given up. Determining that her productivity for the day had left her, she turned her attentions to Sandor when he hung up the phone.

He was seated at the kitchen table, his back to her. He was trying his best to keep her hearing the details of his conversation with Beric, not wanting to upset her further. When Sansa saw him slam his phone down on the table she figured he had not been able to learn anything new, and might be in need of some cheering up. She knew that she did. Sansa quietly laid her laptop and file folders on the coffee table, and stretched her long legs as she stood. Quietly sauntering over to the man she loved, she enjoyed every inch of the view of him as she crossed the room.

Sandor jumped a little before realizing it was Sansa’s graceful hands that caressed his shoulder and forged their way down over his chest. Recovering his awareness, he big hands traveled softly over her the porcelain skin of her arms she pressed herself against him from behind. Sansa buried her head in his neck and began to nibble and suck the skin behind his ear. Sandor growled lowly with the pleasure of feeling her so close to him.

“I think we’ve done enough work for today.” Sansa whispered seductively as she continued to nuzzle into him, exciting him with her exploration.

Sweetly, he pulled on her arms, drawing her around in front of him. He reached for her and wrapped his arms around her elegant frame, dragging her onto his lap. He brought his hand up to trace the beautiful angles of her cheek. They gazed adoringly at each other, his fingers trailing into her hair. His hand cradled the back of her head and brought her smiling face to his. They met in a passionate and longing kiss. She moved her tongue over his lip, licking and wetting them. It drove him wild. His mouth plunged into hers, as her hands explored the hard plains of his chest, sliding around his side. Sansa moaned wantingly as Sandor enjoyed the sweetness of her mouth with his tongue.

Parting reluctantly, their starved lungs panting for breath, Sandor’s fingers moved to loose the button at the waist of Sansa’s jeans. She leaned her forehead against his, her eyes beckoning him to continue his path. “Yes.” She begged.

Sandor breathed lustily against Sansa’s mouth and sucked greedily to find her tongue once more. One hand, he allowed to travel up under her shirt, finding her soft luscious breasts and filling his grasp with them. She moaned softly again, driving him on. The fingers of his other hand brushed gently against her sensitive flesh as he buried them inside the front of her jeans, searching for sweet hot folds and the spot that would make her scream for him. The sensation thrilled her, and she exhaled her warm delicious breath into his mouth. He found her already slick with need for him. “Oh Gods, Baby.” He groaned. “You’re so wet.” He declared to her, almost amazed that he could elicit the response from her. He felt so unworthy of his beautiful Little Bird. He felt himself harden and grow, stretching against the confines of his own clothes. Sansa grinned as she felt his erection pressing upwards on her bottom.

Sansa smiled, and nibbled his lip. “I’m ready for you, Baby.’ She kissed him hard, and opened her legs wide to give him greater access.

Sandor smiled slyly against Sansa’s lips, willing to give her what she wanted. He moved his hand further between her legs, finding the source of the wetness that beckoned him in. The delicate lace of her panties played against the back of his wrist as the thrust one finger inside her. She inhaled sharply as he worked her from within, filling her with another finger as she rocked upon his now soaking hand. His skilled movements brought a high pitched whine from her throat as she struggled for the breath that his pleasure was taking from her lungs.

Just as Sandor was melting into Sansa, wondering how much longer he should tease her before gathering her up and carrying her to the bed, the doorbell rang. ‘For Fuck’s Sake!’ Sandor’s face registered his dark thoughts at being interrupted. He had forgotten about his brother’s call earlier, and Gregor’s plan to stop by to go over what he had heard from Cersei Lannister’s office that morning.

Sansa was undeterred. She continued to raise and lower herself on Sandor’s hand, and run her tongue in and out of his mouth. “They’ll go away.” She whispered.

Sandor pulled his hand from her jeans, and exhaled sympathetically. He would have liked nothing better than to continue his probing of Sansa’s body and let the doorbell ring until brother got fed up and went away. However, if Gregor had information that could help him prove her innocence, Sandor needed to know what it was. He kissed her, his eyes holding a promise to resume their activities later, and regretfully removed her arms from around his neck as he stood.

“It could be important.” His expression begged for her forgiveness. He hated the disappointment on her face as she fastened her jean closed. His manhood deflated at the thought of his brother waiting in the other side of the door, and the unsatisfied way Sansa moped. He kissed her temple as he settled his clothes.

“I’ll make it up to you.” He promised sweetly.

“Damn right you will.” She looked at him coyly. Running her finger over his muscular bicep as she calmed her breathing.

Sansa hung back a few feet behind Sandor. She was well aware of the bad feelings between Sandor and his brother. Truthfully, she had always been a little intimidated by Gregor. Nothing he had ever said or done to her, of course. Sandor would have killed him if he had laid a finger on her, or spoken a harsh word in her direction. He was just so big and solid and brooding, more so even than Sandor. The man she loved had been hurt and abused in his life, and it had left him a sulking sour hulk of a man. That was until you looked beneath his gruff exterior. She had taken that chance with Sandor. She had peeled back the layers to find the soft, sweet heart beneath and lived everyday thankful that she had. Sansa had exposed the heart of the beast, and at least where she was concerned, it had softened and grown in their love.

Sansa felt that while Sandor’s metaphorical armor had hidden pain and anger, Gregor was an unclimbable mountain of something else entirely. Alongside the same anger and pain that had closed Sandor off for years, she sensed regret and guilt in his brother. She wondered if it came from the death of their sister, for which Sandor blamed Gregor. She thought perhaps Gregor’s affliction might be the result of effectively losing both his siblings. Although Sansa was certain Sandor would dismiss her notions about his brother as simply her kind nature, she wondered if perhaps finding someone to peel back the thick and scarred layers the way she had with the younger Clegane brother, might change Gregor for the better.

Sansa stood watching as Sandor pulled the door open and grunted a hateful greeting to his brother. “Come in.” He ordered sourly.

Gregor looked about as happy to be there was Sandor was to invite him in. To his credit, Gregor gave little smile. “Sansa.” He nodded to her.

“Good to see you.” Sansa politely returned his greeting.

Not much for niceties, Sandor turned and swung the door closed with a bang. “Did you find out something?” He urged Gregor, eager for him to leave as soon as possible.

Sansa gave Sandor a slightly annoyed look at his absence of manners. “Would you take a seat, Gregor?” She asked, smiling kindly.

Gregor looked uncomfortable at being treated so nicely, but returned her smile. “Oh. No thank you.” He said. “I can’t stay long.” He politely refused.

Gregor then turned back to Sandor. “Look. I don’t know if this means anything but I overheard Cersei Lannister yelling at that pretty boy brother of hers. She was peeling the paint off the walls because he hadn’t arrested Sansa yet.” He reported.

Sandor bristled at the thought and walked around his brother to join Sansa. He put his arm around her protectively. She simply stood gravely, listening to Gregor’s suspicions. Sandor felt her sink against him as if he were her only protection in the world.

“She was demanding that Lannister arrest that Tarth woman, too. For Renly Baratheon’s murder last night.” Gregor continued.

“Brienne didn’t kill Renly.” Sansa interrupted. “And I didn’t kill Joffrey.” She shook her head, overcome with fear.

Sandor tightened his grip around her, and kissed her hair. He turned her around to face him, bring her her eyes to his. “Don’t worry, Little Bird.” He calmed. “Nobody is going to throw you in jail.” He promised.

He eyed Gregor sternly. “Is that all?” Sandor barked. He knew his brother was just relaying facts, but the part of Sandor that still did not trust him was burning with anger that his brother’s words had frightened Sansa.

Gregor shook his head. “I don’t know if it has anything to do any of this but I spent the morning making overtime guarding Cersei Lannister. She was running to just about every bank in town signing a lot of paperwork.” He told them. “One of the bank managers said something about an account in The Summer Islands. Jhala, I think it was.” He hoped his memory was correct.

Sansa sniffed and came to herself when she heard Gregor’s recollection. “That is very odd.” She agreed. She ran a large corporation herself, and was familiar with the monetary workings of such a business enterprise. “A company the size of Black Stag has its own in house financial services. At the very least someone on staff would be doing the running.” Sansa’s mind raced, trying to determine any reason Cersei’s presence would be required to physically or even electronically move money.

“So. You think she’s up to something?” Sandor looked at her hopefully.

Sansa shrugged her shoulders. “Well, maybe nothing we could prove, and knowing Cersei, I’m sure she’s covered her track meticulously.” Her mind was spinning. “It is very strange, though.” She nodded.

“Who knows if it had anything to do with the murders.” Sandor was cautious.

“I seriously doubt Cersei was involved in her son’s murder.” Gregor corrected. “Her kids are her life.” He said.

“But that company is a close second.” Sandor affirmed. “I agree, it’s doubtful she killed her son, but maybe she’d be willing to profit from it if she could.” He offered.

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.” Gregor promised. “If anything else comes up. I’ll let you know.” He said eyeing Sandor. He motioned his head for his brother to join him at the door as he turned to go.

Sandor broke away from Sansa, and crossed the room to see Gregor out. He turned the knob and opened the door to the hallway. Before he left, Gregor lowered his head and his voice. He did not want Sansa to hear his warning.

“That Lannister cunt jumps whenever his sister tells him to do anything.” Gregor whispered to Sandor. “Keep an eye on her.” He nodded toward Sansa. “If Cersei wants her arrested that badly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he tries, and soon.” He cautioned.

“If they can find her.” Sandor vowed. Gregor nodded his understanding, and left.

Sandor shut the door and locked it behind his brother. He turned to Sansa, who stood nearly frozen in place. He could not bare to see such fear in her eyes. It took only a moment for him to reach her and wrap her in his arms. He was desperate to take her mind from the weight of the allegations against her. His thoughts to the ecstasy they were enjoying before his brother interrupted them. He Sandor brought his lips to Sansa’s and kissed her deeply.

“Where were we?” He suggested seductively.

Sansa tried to give him a weak smile, but her intimate longings had been replaced by worry. She looked at him, anxious and afraid. “Oh, Sandor.” She buried her face in his chest and began to cry.

Her pain was worse to Sandor than anything that he had ever endured himself. He was frantic to ease her mind, and take the panic from her heart. Softly, he brushed his hand under her chin, and raised her face to him. He wiped a tear from her cheek. Sansa found the strength she needed when she beheld the determination in his eyes.

“I swear to you, Baby.” He said. “Nobody is going to arrest you.” He promised. “I swear by the God’s, on my very life. Nobody is ever going to take you away from me.” Sansa knew he meant every word.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News from Tyrion Lannister strengthens Sandor’s belief that Cersei is behind the framing of Sansa and Brienne. It also drives a wedge between Brienne and Tormund, while drawing Sansa and Sandor closer together. Jaime Lannister shows up, posing a dire threat to Brienne and Sansa’s freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry there has been such a delay in completing and posting this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. 😊

Brienne had insisted upon making lunch. She assured Tormund that she was fine and wanted to keep their life as normal as possible. The leftover headache from her concussion has subsided, and she had felt that she needed some activity. Preparing a midday meal seemed little enough exertion, so Tormund tried to set his worry aside, but stayed close to her. Brienne knew he was being protective, and she loved him for it. Now, though, as they sat together at their kitchen table Brienne stared at the soup and grilled cheese in front of her, unable to even try a nibble. Tormund managed a few bites, so as not to hurt her feelings, but found he could not stomach more than that. His appetite was as scarce as hers.

They had spent the morning comforting Loras in his loss of Renly. The young man had done his best to control his distraught sorrow. He had tried to spend most of the visit making sure that Brienne was alright, an effort for which Tormund was grateful. The act had endeared Loras to him, and he was glad they were able to provide some distraction from his pain if only for a moment. Although he thanked the Gods it had not happened, Tormund could not shake the hollow feeling of dread and fear that Brienne could have also met the same fate as her dear friend, Renly. The thought was physically painful to him, and made Tormund never want to leave Brienne’s side, even for a moment.

Brienne halfheartedly tasted a spoonful of her soup, and noticed Tormund watching her with worry. She gave him a little smile. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” She apologized. “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.” She noticed he had also barely touched his plate.

Tormund reached across the short distance that he sat from her, and took Brienne’s hand in his. “Don’t be sorry.” He reassured her, raising her fingers to his lips and kissing them softly.

Brienne smiled and lowered her gaze bashfully. He pulled her slowly toward him. She gladly complied with his silent suggestion, and rose from her chair. She took a soft step in his direction, and pivoted. Finally, a smile broke wide and graceful across her face as she relaxed comfortably onto Tormund’s lap. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as she nestled against him. The sturdy wall of his chest, and his loving arms provided a welcome shield from the cares of the world.

“How is it, that in the middle of all of this, you can make me feel so much better?” She cooed, snuggling closer.

He shrugged his shoulders and acted as if it were some kind of hidden talent. “Guess you just found the right guy.” He chuckled playfully.

Brienne beamed with happiness and ran her fingers gently through his beard. “I certainly did.” She cooed.

They melted into each other and enjoyed a long, sensual kiss. Almost immediately, their bodies began to react to each other. Her panties clung to her with the wetness he forced from her. She reveled in the feeling of his hardness growing against her hot ready softness. She pressed harder to him and deepened their kiss. A low moan escaped his throat as they broke from their kiss. Brienne held Tormund’s face in her hands, and breathed a heavy sigh against his lips. She drove him wild. He clutched her, not giving any horrible twist of fate the chance to take her from him. She laid upon his chest, as if he were the only thing that could ever protect her. Usually she was strong, and bold. She had tried all her life to be brave, and fearless. However, now she felt completely the opposite.

Just then, the shrill ring of the telephone split their romantic trance and drew them back to the real world. Brienne jumped at the shock of the sharp bell in her ears. Then, trying to calm her racing heart, she slumped against Tormund and exhaled in dread, hiding her face in his neck. “Make it go away.” She begged, meaning not only the phone call, but also whoever was on the other end, and whatever trouble they had to bring them.

Answering her plea like a sworn sword of old, Tormund rose and carefully deposited Brienne upon his vacated chair. She watched, almost trembling from the chill that the removal of his arm from around had left. Even watching Tormund from behind, she could tell he was frustrated and a little angry at the intrusion upon their loving moment. She sighed and regarded him warmly. She truly loved him.

Tormund crossed the kitchen and grabbed the cordless phone from its base on the counter. Brienne could tell from the tilt of his head that he quickly checked the caller I.D. screen. She knew he would not answer it if the person on the other end was going to cause her a moment of distress. Her curiosity peaked when she heard the beep of him pressing the button to answer the phone.

“What is it?” Tormund questioned. As he turned around to face her, Brienne noticed how his brow rose in interest, and even possibly hope.

“Now?” He asked. There was no dread in his voice. He gave her a grin and mouthed a kiss in her direction. She looked earnestly at him, smiling in response to how adorable she found him.

“We’ll be there in a few.” He held nodded, confirming his agreement to the speaker before clicking the off the phone with its usual chirp and setting it sharply back on its base. When he looked up, Brienne was at his side, her face searching his for answers.

“That was Clegane.” Tormund informed Brienne. “He wants us to meet him and Sansa at his office.” He told her bluntly. “He said he might hav some information.” He drew in a sharp breath and reached for her.

She could tell by his tone, he was trying not to get her hopes up, but his were starting to soar. She wrapped her arms around his waist and relaxed into his embrace. He held her tightly and soaked in her nearness. How he hoped this day would end better than the last.  
————————————-  
“I don’t know what to think, Tyrion. I don’t understand why this is all happening.” Sansa could not keep the nervous edge from her voice, nor could she control the hyperactive bouncing of her leg as she perched on the corner of the ages-old cigarette burned desk in Sandor’s office.

Sansa’s brow was furrowed with the seriousness of her conversation as she pressed the phone to her ear. She was alone in the small suite of rooms from which the man she loved ran his Private Investigations Agency. She sometimes giggles when she thought of how the place reminded her of a old black and white movie in which some beautiful mysterious woman would enter through an exhaled cloud of smoke seeking the help of a gritty fedora-ed detective. She had even given Sandor the vintage hat he wore all the time to accompany his career change. Sansa shivered to think that it seemed now she actually was that woman in need of help.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” She apologized to the phone receiver. A short silence followed, and then she answered again as Sandor came bursting loudly through the door, a sack from their favorite burger place in his hand. He had left to get them some lunch right after calling Tormund and Brienne.

“Alright. See you then.” Sansa acknowledged and hung up the phone, turning to smile at Sandor, who eyed her questioningly.

“Who was that?” He growled, setting the bag down on his desk. He had reluctantly left her by herself when he realized she was hungry. Although he was only gone for a few minutes, and his trip had only taken him down the street, his every step had been plagued with worry.

“Tyrion.” Sansa answered matter-of-factly. She reached into the brown paper sack and nibbled the french fry she retrieved, trying to ignore the shocked look on Sandor’s face that was quickly turning angry.

“What?” He scowled. He had never veiled his contempt for the diminutive Lannister. He knew that Tyrion had feelings for Sansa. “What did he want?” Sansa could see the muscles in jaws clenching as he spoke.

“I called him.” Sansa corrected. Sandor said nothing, but looked at her with wide-eyed disbelief. “He is the CFO of Stark Incorporated. I was checking on the company.” She stood and ran her hands reassuringly up and down on either side of his chest. Something deep inside of her was thoroughly enjoying his possessive intolerance.

“Why not just call your brother, Bran? He’s the VP.” Sandor suggested, almost hurt. “I’m sure he could tell anything you want to know about Stark Incorporated.” He tried to disguise his anger, but it came out more like whining.

Sansa’s eyes danced. “You’re jealous.” She brought her hands up to cup his face, grinning at the absurdity of his resentfulness. She wanted to laugh, but the hurt in his eyes brought her up short.

“Oh Babe.” Sansa cooed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” She looked at him lovingly.

“You didn’t.” He pouted. “And I’m not jealous.” He scoffed. “Of Tyrion Lannister?” He tried to laugh, but it even he thought it sounded rather pathetic.

“Ok.” She conceded. “Just so you know. There is no need for you to be jealous of anyone.” She reached up and kissed him. “I am all yours.” She smiled seductively. Sandor drew Sansa into his arms. He drew her close and kissed her. She wrapped herself around him and lost herself in his embrace.

After a long moment, they begrudgingly pulled their lips from each other. “There. Feel better?” Sansa nestled into Sandor grip.

Sandor looked at her relieved and satisfied. “Yes. I do.” He gloated.

“Good.” Sansa smiled. “He’ll be here later. He wanted to talk about something he couldn’t mention over the phone.” She patted Sandor’s arm, and winked at him. Then she returned to their meal and began to set the items out on his desk. Sandor hung his head in defeat. He wanted to be angry, but when she kissed him the way she just had, he was powerless. Besides, he knew she loved him, and only him. Still, he thought, Tyrion Lannister had better watch himself around his Little Bird.  
—————————————  
A wrap on the textured frosted glass window of Sandor’s office door hastily tore him away from staring longingly at Sansa as she finished the last few bites of her lunch. He had almost chuckled at the drop of ketchup that rested at the corner of her luscious lips. The knock came just as he was leaning toward her, ready to lick it off. She jumped with a start and looked nervously at him. His trajectory unchanging, Sandor kissed Sansa reassuringly, and wiped the remnants of their feast from her lip with his napkin. She smiled, blinking bashfully at him, and caught his hand in hers. In the wordless promise that passed between them, somehow, Sansa felt that everything truly would be alright.

Sandor pulled begrudgingly from Sansa’s grip and trudged across the room to answer the door. Sansa sat watching, and hoping whomever was on the other side was friendly. She held her breath as he turned the knob and swung open the door. At once she let go a sigh and relief and stood excitedly when she realized the identity of their guests. She rushed to the doorway as Brienne and Tormund arrived, trying to seem cheerful.

“Brienne!” Sansa cried, sweeping her arms wide and meeting her friend in a welcoming embrace. “How are you. I’ve been so worried.” She asked concerned.

Brienne smiled, and hugged Sansa warmly. “I’m feeling much better.” She acknowledged. “I’ve had the best care.” She moved back into Tormund’s arms. It was clear from the way he held tightly to her, and the worry on his face, that Brienne was far from her normal self. Her eyes still held the pain of losing her friend, Renly. “How are you?” Brienne was eager to change the subject from herself.

“I’m holding up.” Sansa gave a brave smile, and reached for Sandor’s hand. He grasped hers protectively. “I’d feel a lot better, if the police could find something to point them toward someone else.” She exhaled pensively.

“Me too.” Tormund eyed Brienne possessively. She squeezed his arm lovingly.

“That’s why I asked you to meet us here.” Sandor announced. “Have a seat.” He motioned toward the small old worn sofa on one side of the room. Brienne and Tormund accepted his invitation, anxious to hear what he had discovered. They sat close to each other, Tormund’s arm draped vigilantly around Brienne’s waist, her hand resting in his.

Sandor drew a chair over for Sansa and sat on the edge of his desk. She sunk into the old cushion as if the air had gone out of her. Her mind replayed the conversation that Sandor had with his brother earlier that morning. It made Sansa physically sick to think that someone as powerful as Cersei Lannister might be plotting against her.

“Have you found something?” Tormund ask, bristling at the thought that this may go deeper than the attack on Brienne, which he doubted he would ever be able to put from his mind.

Sandor nodded, and leaned in, studying both women. “I think what happen to Brienne, and what’s happening to Sansa are connected.” He disclosed.

Brienne and Sansa stared at each other in disbelief. “Both of us?” Brienne squinted in confusion. “Other than being friends, and that I work for Stark Incorporated, what could possibly connect us to two murders.” She questioned.

Sandor and Tormund, looked at each other, both understanding the implication. “You both have very powerful people in your pasts.” Tormund finished Sandor’s thought ruefully. “The same powerful family.” His eyes swept protectively over Brienne.

“Listen. I found out from...” Sandor paused, not willing to admit that it was his estranged brother who had given him the information he was about to share.

“A reliable source.” Sansa interjected, trying to spare Sandor the discomfort of mentioning Gregor. She game him a bashful knowing smile which he soaked up ravenously.

“This morning a reliable source told us that Cersei Lannister has been all over her brother about arresting the both of you.” Sandor eyed Sansa and Brienne. Tormund tensed, and Brienne’s face went ghostly pale.

“She still thinks they’re responsible for those murders?” Tormund shook his head, disgusted.

“I don’t think she cares if they did it or not.” Sandor replied. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet she knows they didn’t do it at all.” He hissed.

“Then what does she want from us?” Brienne wondered aloud, her skin chilling at the memory of the woman’s dislike of her. When she was involved with Jaime, his sister had made no secret of her contempt for Brienne.

“It’s possible that your being the innocent victims in all of this is a surprise benefit to her.” Sandor continued.

“What do you mean?” Tormund face was pensive as he moved protectively closer to Brienne.

“I was told she’s been all over town wiring money to offshore accounts.” Sandor announced.

“Well, she does run Black Stag. It could just be business.” Brienne tried to find a logical explanation.

“Yes. But by herself. Almost in secret.” Sansa offered. “And apparently, there were very large sums of money involved.” Her brow rose, imagining what Cersei’s motives could be.

“I suppose that is pretty unusual.” Brienne agreed.

Sandor nodded. “Then she practically demanded that pretty boy brother of hers arrest you, both.” Sandor stared at the group ominously.

“She can’t decided who gets arrested.” Tormund blurted. “She not the police.” He almost laughed at the description of Cersei’s ego.

Brienne’s eyes fell to the floor. “But Jaime is.” She reminded them. She could not tell whether the feeling of dread that washed over her was from the mention of Jaime’s name, or the idea of what Cersei could do with just a word. “I learned long ago, that he will do anything she tells him to.” Brienne forced herself to look up. The pitying looks she received from Sansa and Sandor we’re far better than the cool stare with which Tormund regarded her. She had not meant to sound so reminiscent. Brienne forced herself to shove the painful memories to the back of her mind. She grabbed Tormund’s hand, and looked at him with loving compassion.

“Being a Lannister definitely has its advantages in this town.” Sandor rued.

At that moment, a loud knock sounded on the door, shaking those within the office from their thoughts. Sandor rose and stomped toward the entry, ready to send away whoever it was. Once the door was swung open, his disgusted grunt told everyone that, at the very least the other person was not considered a threat. “Well, speak of the devil.” He snorted, as Sansa joined him, placing her hand over the thick muscles, of his forearm. She nudged the door fully open with her elbow.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Tyrion Lannister retorted as he entered the office, giving Sandor a haughty look. “I have been considered many things, but never quite that.” He corrected. “I hope.” Tyrion added.

“Hello Tyrion.” Sansa greeted her friend warmly, welcoming him. Sandor bristled at the unwanted interruption. Sansa walked beside the massive figure of the man she loved as they returned to the circle of conversation, rubbing his back comfortingly. Of course he would never let on that the simple act of her touch did much to sooth him. Of course she already knew.

Tyrion felt more conspicuous than usual, as the participants of the gathering to which he had not really been invited stared at him. “Forgive my intrusion.” He smiled wittily as he suddenly became the center of attention.

“Nonsense.” Sansa admonished. “I invited you.” She said, almost informing Sandor, and perhaps Tormund too, not be rude to her guest.

Tyrion smiled widely, and a little condescendingly in Sandor’s direction. Then he saw Brienne sitting on the couch, entwined in the arms of the burly red haired half wild man to whom her heart now belonged, and looking completely and utterly happy to be so. He remembered the days that the loving grasp that surrounded her had been that if his own brother. There had a been a time when he and Brienne had gotten along well. They had been friends. That was before Jaime had broken her heart. It was before she had found love with someone else. He though of the miserable shell Jaime had become without her, and of the pain he had suffered because of the demands of their sister. There were times that Tyrion had wanted to slap Jaime for throwing away the only happiness he might ever know for the likes of Cersei.

“Brienne.” Tyrion nodded in her direction. “It’s been a long time.” His voice seemed to drip with memory.

Brienne regarded Tyrion cordially but cooly. “Yes. It has.” In the last two days she had gotten enough reminders of her past failed relationship with Jaime Lannister. Tyrion saw her grip tighten around the fingers of the man who now held not only her hand, but obviously her heart.

“I heard what happened last night.” Tyrion told her. “Are you alright?” He inquired.

“Yes. I am quite well.” She tried to smile, but her frown shown through the attempt.

“I am so sorry about Renly.” Tyrion offered.

“Thank you.” She replied in monotone. For some reason, Brienne felt little comfort in his sympathy, but tried to hide her mild contempt in the happiness she felt in Tormund’s arms. “Tyrion. This is Tormund Giantsbane, my boyfriend.” Brienne wanted to wince at how juvenile that word made her relationship sound. Her life with Tormund was certainly much more than a mere fling.

She noticed that Tormund did not seem to take offense at the description as he rose, and puffed himself up, eager to display his victory in winning the woman who had once belonged to Tyrion’s brother. He stretched out his hand, almost triumphantly. “Good to meet you.” Tormund proclaimed, with a hint of superiority in his voice. Brienne found it quite appealing.

“And you.” Tyrion added, eyeing the tall broad bear of a man, unsure why he was experiencing jealousy on behalf of his brother.

Sandor was growing impatient at having a Lannister in his office, and wanted Tyrion to leave as quickly as he had arrived. “Sansa says you know something.” He blurted gruffly. “What is it?” He demanded.

Sansa ignored Sandor’s impolite demeanor, and turned to Tyrion, remembering their earlier conversation on the telephone. “What was it that you couldn’t say over the phone.” She pressed.

“Well.” Tyrion cleared his throat. “I don’t know as much as I wish did, believe me.” He admitted. “Further details would surely shed light upon my discovery.” He said regretfully.

“Discovery? What is it?” Sansa continued nervously.

“May I?” Tyrion asked motioning to a chair beside the desk.

“Of course.” Sansa smiled. Sandor rolled his eyes, not wanting Tyrion to get too comfortable for fear of extending his visit.

Tyrion took an overly long time to seat himself properly, a part of him enjoying the impatience of the others. When he had arranged himself comfortably upon his perch, he finally spoke. “About a week ago. I was reviewing the company’s quarterly financials.” He began methodically. “Sansa, you know the bottom line has remained in relatively stable growth for years.” She nodded her understanding, so Tyrion continued. “Over this past fiscal year Stark profits have seen huge growth, however the price has been steadily falling.” He reported, his brow furrowing with concern.

“That could be caused by any number of reasons.” Sansa lifted her eyes, thinking of the various events that had impacted her family company recently. However, she could not escape the same conclusion at which Tyrion had arrived.

Tyrion tilted his head. “Yes. To a degree.” He concurred. “However the levels of discrepancy that I have tracked are highly unusual.” He informed her. “I checked with a friend at the stock exchange, and Stark Inc. had been trading unusually briskly.”

“What would it mean?” Sansa questioned.

“Someone, somewhere is buying up Stark stock in enormous quantities.” Tyrion started. “It appears to be in the best interest of an unknown party to devalue Stark Incorporated stock.” Tyrion squinted, and stared at Sansa. He knew her business acumen was such that she realized the meaning behind his words.

Her chest fell, and her eyes rose as the thoughts formed in Sansa’s brain. “A takeover?” She gasped.

“That is what I fear.” Tyrion agreed.

“But who?” Sansa looked shocked as the others sat, wondering what Stark company business had to do with she and Brienne being framed for such horrific crimes.

It was Sandor who interrupted the financial talk. “Ok. Someone wants her company.” He growled. “That’s got nothing to do with that little cun....” He squirmed and trailed off, not wishing to garner Sansa’s disapproval over his choice of language. “That’s got nothing to do the Joffrey’s murder, or Renly Baratheon’s.” He boomed.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at him. “Doesn’t it?” He asked rhetorically.

Sansa’s mouth dropped open. “Cersei.” She voiced, shocked.

Tyrion pointed an affirmative in Sansa’s direction. “Great minds think alike.” He smiled.

“Are you saying that Lannister bitch killed her own son?” Sandor stared in disbelief.

“And Renly?” Brienne questioned almost frantic.

“No.” Tyrion shook his head. “No matter how wicked I believe Cersei to be, I am certain she would never allow anything to harm her children, much less kill one of them herself.” He assured the group. “However, that doesn't mean she would be above profiting from the situation.”

“Profit?” Sandor sneered.

Tyrion tilted his head, realizing the picture he was about to paint. “There is only one thing Cersei loves more than money, perhaps even more than her own children.” He surveyed the serious looks of everyone in the room. “Power.” Tyrion affirmed.

He raised his eyes to Sansa. “With you out of the way, Cersei could easily gain controlling interest in Stark Incorporated. She could call in favors, and scheme her way to absorbing the company into Black Stag.” He hated the somber look that his words had brought to Sansa’s face, but he knew she would understand his honesty. “She would be the most powerful woman in Westeros.” He reported ominously.

Sansa sighed heavily. “Well, that could explains the take over.” She agreed. “But not the murders.” Her brow furrowed, trying to force it all to make sense.

“Then, there are still two killers running around out there.” Tormund tensed and tightened his grip on Brienne. The thought terrified him that whomever had killed Renly must now consider Brienne a possible threat. Would they wrongly assume she had seen them during the attack, and come after her.

Tyrion nodded. “At least one.” He asserted.

“You think the murders are connected?” Brienne asked, her voice grave and tiny. Tormund recognized the half sick look on her face and longed to take away her fear and pain.

“I think that’s very possible.” Tyrion answered. His face serious.

“So it’s Cersei that’s behind framing these two?” Sandor motioned toward Sansa and Brienne, before standing and resting his hand protectively upon Sansa’s shoulder. She reached up and stroked the top of his arm appreciatively.

“But, certainly she would want to find her son’s killer?” Sansa could scarcely believe anyone could be as opportunistic as Tyrion was now describing his own sister.

“I’m sure she does.” Tyrion acknowledged. “I am sure she has a team of investigators working the case.” He cleared his throat. “Secretively, of course.”

“I thought Jaime was working the case.” Brienne interrupted. She felt Tormund grow rigid beside her at the mention of her former lover’s name.  
Her heart broke for the jealously he had no need to feel.

“Jaime will do whatever Cersei tells him to do.” Tyrion’s face fell to think of the puppet his brother had become. “You, of all people should know that, Brienne.” He reminded her.

Brienne’s expression became annoyed, and her face reddened to have her history with Jaime Lannister and their failed relationship brought up as a topic of conversation, especially in front of Tormund. She looked at him comfortingly, but saw the resentful clenching of his jaw. Tyrion’s words had embarrassed her deeply, but the thought that Tormund would for even a moment feel there was any need to wonder where her heart lay troubled her even more. She squeezed his hand and tried to give him a comforting look, before again questioning Tyrion.

“But why cast suspicion upon me?” Brienne asked, giving Tyrion a scornful look. “What would be the purpose of making it look like I...killed Renly.” Her voice faltered at the image. Even as his mind railed against the thought of Jaime having in once been in Brienne’s life, Tormund pulled her comfortingly closer.

Tyrion stared at her, disbelieving that she had not realized Cersei’s motive. “She wants you out of the way once and for all.” He informed her. Brienne’s confused reaction told him she still did not realize the truth.

“Cersei wants our brother all to herself.” Tyrion states matter-of-factly, his serious loom resting upon Brienne. “Jaime is still very much in love with you, Brienne.” He admitted confessing Jaime’s feelings in his stead.

Brienne opened her mouth to speak but nearly choked. She stammered, trying to refute Tryion’s assumption. “That’s ridiculous.” Brienne coughed, flustered. Sansa and Sandor eyed other, squirming uncomfortably. Tormund looked as though he was ready to throw Tyrion through a window.

“How could be still love me?” Brienne called Tyrion out, her face furious. “It’s absurd.” She argued.

Tyrion earnest express was unchanging. “It’s the truth.” He declared.

Brienne chuckled sarcastically. “If you remember, Jaime walked out on me.” She pointed out needlessly.

“That was not by choice.” Tyrion countered.

Tormund laughed bitingly. “What kind of man lets his sister run his life?” He rolled his eyes almost glorying in the how pathetic Jaime Lannister sounded. Of course he did not let on that he was eternally grateful for that fact.

Tyrion ignored Tormund’s rhetorical question, and continued his explanation to Brienne. “Cersei forced Jaime to end his relationship with you, Brienne.” He told her sadly. “You were a bone of contention between them for months before he...” Tyrion finally trailed off, not wanting to voice the obvious.

“Chose her over me?” Brienne finished for him. Somehow, she felt this new knowledge made the heartbreak she had suffered when Jaime had left her even worse. She joined Tormund in his sarcastic reaction, shaking her head sardonically and fighting the urge to laugh in disgust.

“I am sorry it seems that way.” Tyrion lamented. “I know it was a weak, stupid thing for him to do.” He admitted. “However, he has not been the same since that day.” Tyrion told her. “Jaime is a shell of his former self without you?” He stared at her sincerely.

Brienne chose to focus on the issue at hand, rather than rehash what had occurred between Jaime and herself. “What does that have do with someone framing me for murder?” She demanded.

“Not someone.” Tyrion corrected. “Cersei.” He said chillingly. “She knows where Jaime heart lies.” He revealed. “Things have not been the same between them since then either.” He affirmed.

“Again.” Brienne reminded him. “That has nothing to do with me, now.” She asserted.

“I fear it has more to do with you, than you may realize.” Tyrion regarded her compassionately.

“So it’s your damned sister that caused the attack?” Tormund seethed through gritted teeth, perched on the edge of the sofa ready to spring.

“I am not certain she had anything to do with whomever accosted Brienne, and killed Renly.” Tyrion conceded. “But she is definitely pushing for Brienne to take the fall.” He informed them.

“But why?” Brienne questioned urgently.

Tyrion’s tone dropped. His eyes studied Brienne compassionately. “If you were locked away in prison for the rest of your life, there would be no way Jaime could ever get you back.” He said, wishing he did not have to paint such a dark picture.

“There is no way Jaime could ever get me back.” Brienne emphasized. She turned and looked reassuringly into Tormund’s eyes. “Cersei doesn’t need to worry about me.” She said finding it hard to believe that she could be viewed as such a threat.

“That is a chance she’s not willing to take.” Tyrion answered. “She always has to have the final move.” He recalled. “I fear seeing you locked away is her ultimate goal.” He was deadly serious.

Brienne sat motionless, clinging to Tormund’s hand. She was suddenly paralyzed with fear. She knew very well that Cersei was already powerful enough, even without taking over Stark Incorporated, that she could ruin the life Brienne had built. The life she cherished. Brienne stared at Tormund, hopeless terror clinging to her frown. She doubted even he could help her if Cersei Lannister truly wanted to destroy her.

Unable to listen to anymore, Tormund jumped to his feet. “If that bitch tries to come anywhere near Brienne, I’ll kill her!” He stood over Tyrion, his fists clenched as if he was envisioning Cersei in the room. Brienne tried to calm him, and reached to grab onto one of his wrists. She could not bare the thought of what would happen to him if he followed through on his threat.

“She won’t.” Tyrion answered, unshaken. “My sister won’t soil her hands with the particulars.” He affirmed. “But rest assured, she will have her fingers in every part of this, and if she wants to, she will destroy you.” Tyrion warned Brienne. His eyes traveled to Sansa’s shocked face. “Both of you.” He cautioned. Sansa sank back against Sandor, trying to control the trembling that her friend’s words had caused.

Brienne looked as stricken as Sansa as she her eyes begged Tormund to take her away, somewhere they could get lost and forget about takeovers, and Lannisters, and murders. He held tight to her hands, and understood her silent plea. His mind was spinning trying to find a way to make her wish a reality. He could see her losing the battle to control herself in the face of Tyrion’s dire prediction.

“So what do we do?” Sansa asked, afraid to admit that she was at the mercy of an obsessed mad woman.

“You be careful.” Tyrion glowered. “Very, very careful.” He implored her. “And you, two.” He pointed to Sandor and Tormund. “You watch out for them, and find a way to get to the bottom of this before Cersei’s hired thugs do.” He eyed Brienne compassionately. “Or before Jaime does.” Even Tyrion himself was uncertain if his brother could actually throw the woman he loved in jail, quite possibly for the rest of her life, if Cersei demanded it.

Tyrion lowered his eyes to the floor, regretting having been the bearer of such ominous tidings. “I should be going.” He announced, and gave no further excuse as he headed toward the door. Sansa bolted up to see him out. Sandor took a few steps with her and then hung back. However, he watched their farewell exchange with great interest.

“Thank you.” Sansa told Tyrion gratefully. “I know this couldn’t have been easy, going against your family to warn us.” She nodded bashfully.

Tyrion chuckled. “There has never been any love lost between me and most of my family.” He smiled. “The only one I give a wit about is my brother, and he’s been doing his best to mess up his life for quite some time.” He feared there was nothing he could now do to help Jaime.

Sansa sighed. “Still.” She reassured him. “It took a lot of courage, and we are very grateful.” She gave him a grateful, pleasant smile. He did not tell her he would live on the memory of her shining face for days. He simply scoffed away her concern, and turned to leave. Before he had strode fully across the threshold, Tyrion turned with a final thought. “Stay safe.” He bid them, staring from Sansa to Brienne and back again. Sansa nodded and shut the door behind him.

Sansa’s eyes traveled across the room and held Sandor’s angry look in her gaze. The rigidness of his stance told her that he was nearly ready to explode with rage. Tormund rose from his seat on the couch next to Brienne. He stormed into the small kitchen without saying a word. Brienne’s watched him worriedly for a moment before following him.

Without saying a word, Sansa moved to find comfort in Sandor’s arms. His ferocity cooled a bit at her nearness as he wrapped her in his protective grasp. They stood alone in the outer office for sometime, holding onto each other desperately when at last a tiny sniffle from Sansa brought them back to reality.

Sandor gently lifted her chin toward him. “What is it?” He questioned with concern. His hard heart breaking at the tears in her eyes.

Sansa looked at him gravely. “If Cersei Lannister wants to destroy Stark Incorporated, or Brienne, or me, or us.” Sansa paused. “She can, and she will.” Her final words were choked with a frightened sob as she peered hopelessly up into Sandor’s eyes.

He drew her closer. “Over my dead body.” He swore.

Sansa closed her eyes against the image he had just painted. When she again opened them, she could not longer keep her tears at bay. “Don’t say that.” She said trying to shake the thought from her mind and reaching to caress Sandor’s jaw. All he could do was hold her.

\-----------------------

Brienne stood in the kitchen doorway for a moment, silently watching Tormund fight the anger that was threatening to take over his best efforts at staying calm. He grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and slammed it down on the counter. Barely looking, he pulled the hot steaming glass pot from its place on the burner in the coffeemaker, and poured it gruffly into the cup. A hot wave of dark liquid sloshed over the side and trailed down his fingers.

“Dammit!” Tormund swore, reflexively pulling his hand away, and licking the coffee from his fingers to cool the burn. Brienne winced as if she felt the same moment of pain he did. She quickly crossed the room and laid her hand on his arm.

“Honey.” She tried to comfort him.

“What?” He growled unnecessarily, more angry at the news he had just heard from Tyrion Lannister, than the sting of the hot coffee. Unfortunately, his tone was directed at Brienne, and he did not mean for it be.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked softly.

Tormund steadied his hands on the counter, and lowered his head with a sigh, regretting that he had spoken to Brienne so harshly. “No.” His voice apologized. “I’m not mad at you.” Still, he would not turn to look at her.

Brienne moved her fingers up his arm and over his shoulder trying to sooth him. “But you are angry?” She answered rhetorically.

“Yes. I’m angry as Hells.” He admitted, finally pivoting to face her. She cradled his burned fingers in hers and blew on them. The truth was that he barely even felt it over his fury. “I’m angry at whoever attacked you. I’m angry at that cunt bitch Cersei Lannister. I’m angry at...” He shook his head and looked away.

Brienne reached her hand to his jaw and softly angled his face to her once more. Tormund tried to turn away, not wanting her to see the pain in his eyes. Her steady grasp persuaded him to finally bring his eyes to hers. Brienne’s heart broke at the look she found there. “What is it?” She implored. “Please tell me.” Brienne begged.

Tormund’s resolve crumbled at Brienne’s touch. “I’m angry at that cocksucker, Jaime Lannister.” He admitted. “For what he did to you. For bringing down the wrath of his sister on you. For ever being with you in the first place.” He told her.

Brienne’s expression filled with understanding compassion. She knew that he struggled with his jealousy over Jaime, but now it was smothering him. Brienne suddenly needed to reassure Tormund of her love for him. “That was over a long time ago.” She locked his eyes in hers.

“If he’d left you alone, you wouldn’t be in this mess now.” Tormund reminded her.

Brienne took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Maybe.” She nodded, and then tried to smile sweetly. “But I might not have met you.” She cooed, rubbing against him. She wanted to distract him. “I only came to work for Sansa because Cersei fired me. She only fired me because of Jaime’s feelings for me.” She continued logically. “If I’d never taken the job at Stark Inc., I wouldn’t have met Sansa. I wouldn’t have come North with her for that visit to Winterfell. She and I wouldn’t have met up with Jon, and ...” Her smile grew wistful, remembering. “I wouldn’t have met you.” She lamented.

Tormund pulled away. “But, he does have feelings for you.” His chest heaved at the thought. “According to his brother, Jaime Lannister still loves you.” Unmoving, he stared at the cabinet ahead of him, as if it held all the answers.

“That’s irrelevant.” Brienne tried to control her voice. Her anger was also growing. However, she was not sure toward whom it should be directed.

“Is it?” Tormund questioned, still unable to look at her.

“What?” Brienne did not want to believe what she thought she was hearing. She felt an empty pit beginning to form in her stomach.

“Would you?” He asked, almost accusingly.

Brienne stepped back, her face clouding with indignation. “Would I what?” She repeated dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Tormund stared at Brienne intently. “If Lannister wanted you back.” He began, unsure he wanted to know her answer. “Would you?”

Brienne felt the breath seep from her lungs. If he had slapped her, it would have hurt less. She took a step backward, numb. “How can you even ask me that?” She searched his face with pained eyes.

Tormund said nothing, realizing that he had unleashed his anger and jealousy on an undeserving target. Brienne backed further away from him, her face stricken. Heavy tears played upon the rims of her eyelids, ready to trace their vicious paths with a single blink. She shook her head as she stared at the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, disbelieving the accusation he had just hurled at her.

His heart crumbled, and his anger vanished when he saw the hurt his words had caused. In that moment he would have given his life to take them back. Urgently, he stepped toward Brienne and grabbed her hands gently, stopping her path backward from him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He begged as he took her in his arms. He felt her shoulders shaking with the sobs she could not control, and he hated himself for it.

“I’m a stupid, jealous, fool.” He groveled. “I didn’t mean it.” He told her. “Please don’t cry, Babe. I didn’t mean it.” He was nearly frantic to calm her.

Brienne shuddered for a moment in Tormund’s arms, unable to move. The words that crowded her brain, she could not speak. She listened to his desperate apology and her heart softened. She melted into his embrace and buried her face in his neck. “I know.” She gasped. “I know you didn’t mean it.” She assured him, yet still could not seem to stop weeping. Tormund held her close to him, almost afraid she would shake loose and be gone forever.

Brienne raised her head and looked earnestly at him, bringing her hands up to hold his face. “You’re as scared as I am.” She affirmed understandingly.

Tormund shook his head. “It’s no excuse.” He chastised himself. “I just can’t stand the thought of you with him, with anyone else.” He explained.

Brienne laid her palms upon his chest. “That is something you will never need to worry about.” She told him, snuggling closer to him. “Whatever I had with Jaime is over, for good. It ended a long time ago, before I even met you.” Brienne proclaimed. “I love you, and only you.” She vowed to Tormund. “You are the only man I want in my life.” Brienne held him tighter. “Forever.” She declared forcefully. “Do you understand me?” She glared.

Tormund smiled and nodded, holding her in his gaze, embarrassed by his faithless outburst. He should be counting his lucky stars, instead of wallowing in resentment and spite, especially toward Brienne. She was facing the biggest fight of her life. How could be have made it worse? Tormund held on to Brienne even tighter.

“Face it, Giantsbane.” Brienne giggled seductively. “You’re stuck with me.” She grinned.

“Oh yeah?” He laughed, sliding his way deeper into her loving grip. “Who’s complaining?” He inquired, before pressing his lips softly to hers and easing her mind with a passionate kiss. She fell effortlessly into her usual rhythm of enjoying his mouth upon hers, and feeling his body so close.  
——————————  
In the next room Sandor held Sansa in their own comfortable loving cocoon. He wanted to protect her from the entire world. All she wanted was to stay there for eternity. She was trying so hard to be brave. He was racking his brain trying to come up with a way to stop Cersei Lannister from destroying both of their lives. Together, they stood near the window, staring out onto the street below, not really seeing anything but the images that swirled in their troubled minds.

It was Sandor who saw the line of police cars first. He craned his neck and drew Sansa’s attention to the sidewalk in front of the building as three black and white patrol cars pulled up, their lights off, sirens silent. An expensive black imported luxury car took its place behind them. Sandor stiffened, and Sansa’s quick shallow breath signaled the racing of her heart within her chest. Jaime Lannister was the first to step from his vehicle, and walk purposefully to the lead patrol car. The uniformed officers followed him, as he motioned for them to enter the building.

“Get Brienne and Tormund.” Sandor told Sansa urgently. He reluctantly let her go, and turned to retrieve something from his desk drawer.

“Brienne.” Sansa called, unable to mask the fear in her voice.

Brienne and Tormund emerged from the kitchen in each other’s arms. However, both were alarmed by the tone of Sansa’s call.

“What is it?” Tormund asked sharply, when he saw the object Sandor had pulled from the drawer. Clegane stood, loading the clip of a twenty-two caliber pistol.

“It’s Lannister!” Sandor answered angrily. “He’s here.” His warning sounded more resolved than desperate.

“The are more officers with him.” Sansa added in dread.

“What?” Brienne spoke up. “How would he know we’re here?” She wondered aloud.

“You must have been tailed.” Sandor suspected. Then he turned to Tormund. “We have to get them out of here.” He told him, a plan already forming in his mind. “They need a place to hide out.” He voiced, his mind already several steps ahead of his actions.

Tormund thought for a moment, then his face brightened, a little. “My fishing cabin, up north.” He offered. “Nobody in Kings Landing knows about it, except Brienne. We can take them there.” He agreed, looking frantically at Brienne.

“No.” Sandor shook his head. “They have to go in their own.” The idea made him physically sick, but there was no other way. “We stay here.” He told Tormund. “Buy them some time, and get to the bottom of this.” Sandor looked up, his jaw set like stone.

“No.” Sansa nearly shouted as she pulled at Sandor’s arm. “You need to come with us.” She pleaded. “I can’t do this without you.” She cried.

Tormund was already twisting the key to his secluded cabin off his key ring, and handing it to Brienne. “You remember how to get there?” He asked her. She nodded, clutching his sleeve. Her fear at leaving without him was a great as Sansa’s.

Sandor handed the gun he had loaded to Sansa. “I showed you how to use this?” He reminded, sure that muscle memory would take over if needed. Sansa stared at the weapon, and then at Sandor, horrified. She pulled back from him, reluctantly to hold the deadly firearms. She had never liked guns, and Sandor’s impromptu lessons on how to shoot had been terrifying.

“Take it.” Sandor practically shoved it at her. Sansa accepted the offering against her better judgement. “Use it if you need to.” He instructed. Sansa still refused to handle the gun. Then, Sandor turned to Brienne. “You know how to shoot, right?” He asked.

Brienne nodded an affirmative. “Yes. Of course.” Not only had her father made sure she could protect herself when she was still a young girl, her job in security had required her to be able to shoot, and shoot well. Sandor handed the pistol to her, and she tucked into the waist of her jeans.

“Out the back.” Sandor ordered. “Quickly.” He knew Lannister and his officers were nearly upon them.

Sandor took Sansa by the hand, and raced toward the small back hallway that led to the bathroom. The door at the end led to a seldom used fire escape. Tormund turned Brienne in his arms and followed without hesitation.

“Take my bike.” Sandor handed his keys to Sansa. “You know how to ride.” He had shown Sansa many survival skills during their time together.

“Leave your cell phones here.” He demanded, holding out his hand. Sansa gave up hers without argument. Brienne handed hers to Tormund. “Once your well away from the city, stop at an out of the way gas station and get a burner.” Sandor was giving directions to them as if he were checking off a list.

“A what?” Sansa furrowed her brow.

“It’s an untraceable cell phone.” Brienne interjected. “The kind you buy minutes for.” She informed Sansa. “I know what to get.” She assured Sandor.

“Good!” Clegane answered gruffly.

He turned to Sansa as he opened the back door. The daylight flooded into the tight close interior. “Go.” He ordered. “I’ll get to you soon.” He swore. There was barely time to say goodbye as he leaned over and gave Sansa a quick kiss.

Tormund held onto Brienne, who clutched him close with the same hesitance. “I love you.” He told her, as if it were the last time.

“I love you, too.” Brienne answered, fighting sobs at leaving him.

They shared a final hurried kiss before Tormund pulled her from him and bid her to leave. “Go.” He insisted. “Be careful.” He implored. She took one last look and complied, following Sansa down the fire escape just as there came a loud knock on the door from other end of the office. Sandor and Tormund stood staring after them as long as they dare, and then pulled the door shut, locking it as if it had never been used. They made their way toward the main office, stalling as much as they could.  
——————————-  
The knocking grew louder and more insistent. “Clegane!” Jaime Lannister shouted from the other side of the door. “Open Up!” He commanded.

As they reached the door, Tormund and Sandor eyed each other warily, each hoping they had given the women enough time to flee. Sandor slowly turned the knob and swung open the door, coming face to face with Jaime Lannister and three officers in crisp black uniforms. While he noticed that no weapons were drawn, he also saw the tense hands of the policemen on their gun belts.

“What do you want?” Sandor bellowed at Jaime.

“Where are they?” He questioned dryly. He wished he were anywhere else.

“Who?” Tormund pretended to be thoroughly confused.

Jaime rolled his eyes, already regretting another run in with Brienne’s current boyfriend. “You know who, Giantsbane.” He replied. He had no patience to spare. Not today. “Brienne and Sansa. We know they’re here.” He gave the men a warning glare.

“Come in and look for them.” Sandor scoffed, enjoying the frustration on Lannister’s face. He stood aside and allowed the little posse to enter.

Jaime surveyed the rooms quickly, and grew more agitated when it became clear that Brienne and Sansa were not there. “Wait outside.” He motioned to the patrolmen. The three Kings Landing policemen looked questioningly at each other, but did as they were told.

Once the door was closed securely, Jaime resumed his grilling interrogation. “They were here, weren’t they?” He asked, his anger growing. Sandor and Tormund said nothing, unwilling to endanger their respective lovers.

Jaime’s frustration was evident. “You need to tell me.” He glared, his face betraying the urgency of his fears. “While I can still help them.” He implored.

“Help them, by arresting them?” Sandor mocked. “Bullshit!” He laughed bitterly.

Jaime shook his head in contempt. “In custody is the only place I can assure they will be safe.” He argued.

“Don’t give me that.” Tormund scoffed. “Your sister wants them in jail.” His loathing of Brienne’s former lover shot from his eyes like laser beams.

“Yes.” Jaime conceded. “Cersei wants them arrested.” He admitted. “But I can make sure she can’t find them.” He pleaded.

“Why would you help them?” Sandor asked suspiciously.

“Because I know they didn’t do this.” Jaime answered sternly.

As the words left Jaime’s lips, the loud deep pulse of a motorcycle engine echoed from the street below. Sandor and Tormund gave each other a knowing and relieved look. It did not escape Jaime’s notice. He rushed to the window to survey the view from above. He raised the horizontal slats of the cheap blinds enough to watch Sansa race down the street at the bars of Sandor’s bike, Brienne perched behind her, as the afternoon sun began to set. He closed his eyes forebodingly.

“What have you done?” Jaime indicted, turning back to Sandor and Tormund with a dark scowl.

“We got them out the clutches of your cunt sister!” Tormund shot back, unable to hold his hatred any longer.

“You have no idea, do you?” Jaime roared. “It doesn’t matter where they are. She will find them.” He cried. “I am the only one who can stop her.” He admitted.

“Then why didn’t you?” Sandor barked. “Why did you let it go this far?” He clenched his fists, trying to control his rage.

“I thought there were lines even Cersei wouldn’t cross.” Jaime shook his head. “I was wrong.” He lamented. “I should have known, she’ll stop at nothing to get what she wants. Nothing.” He had not wanted to believe his own sister capable of such treachery, and did not want to consider that his mistake might cost Brienne and Sansa their lives.

“Why the Hells should we believe a word you have to say?” Tormund accused, his hatred for Jaime burning a pit in his stomach.

Jaime glowered back at Tormund. “Because I don’t want to see her dead!” He had not meant to lose his composure, but worry for Brienne was eating him alive. “I don’t want to see either of them lose their life for Cersei’s ambition.” He told them.

“Or her jealousy.” Tormund scoffed, his mind running wild imagining what type of twisted closeness could be between the two siblings.

“That’s none of your business.” Jaime answered defensively.

“And Brienne is none of yours, not anymore!” Tormund took a step toward Jaime, his fists clenched with rage.

Part of Jaime wanted to believe that somewhere Brienne still had feelings for him. In his most private thoughts he had imagined the day he would ask for her forgiveness, and for her heart. There had been times when the hope of rekindling their relationship had been the only thing that kept him from falling over the edge. However, he had seen the love that had grown between Brienne and Giantsbane. The evening before, he had watched them together in the Emergency Room and she had barely even realized he was in the room. All Brienne had wanted was to be in Giantsbane’s arms. Jaime had realized she had long since gotten over him, and moved on. She was in love with someone else, deeply in love. Jaime knew he could not destroy her happiness, but he was not about to let her lover off so easily. His jealousy of Giantsbane was still raw, and still begged to be nourished.

Jaime chuckled haughtily at Tormund remark. “Not as far as you know, anyway.” He goaded.

Sandor saw it coming. He would have done the same. He stood back to enjoy the show. Tormund’s face reddened with rage at Jaime’s malicious reply. He could bear the man’s presence no longer, let alone accept the indignity of listening to anyone defame his life with Brienne. Lannister was begging for it, so Tormund would most happily oblige. Before Jaime could react, Tormund drew back his arm and unleashed his tightly clenched fist against Lannister’s chiseled jaw, sending Brienne’s one-time lover sprawling to the floor, bouncing off Sandor’s desk on the way down.

Tormund stood over Jaime triumphantly, ignoring the pain in his hand. He was sure he would be thrown in jail for assaulting a police officer, but it had been a long time since anything had felt so satisfying. Jaime laid on the ground for a moment, shaking off the fog that Tormund’s punch had brought in front of his eyes. When full awareness returned, he jumped to his feet, reaching for his handcuffs.

“Oh come on, Lannister.” Sandor announced. “You deserved that, and you know it.” He chided.

Jaime stared at Tormund, wanting so badly to haul him downtown. He fought himself not to do just that. Tormund stood, unmoving glaring at him. Of course Jaime knew he had gone too far. He had wanted to strike out against Giantsbane for his place in Brienne’s heart, but he had used her to do it, and he regretted that fact. He could not allow his own emotions to get in the way of protecting Brienne. Reluctantly, Jaime put his cuffs away, but continued to stare a warning at Tormund, who stood boldly almost begging Lannister to come at him. After a moment of stand-off, Jaime moved toward the door. Sandor followed, inserting himself between Jaime and Tormund, and eager to get the unwanted guest out of his office.

Jaime stopped just short of the doorway and turned. “Let me know when you hear from them.” He ordered, knowing they would not. “I mean it.” He reminded sternly. “I can help them. I will do everything in my power to see nothing happens to them, but you have to meet me halfway.” He almost begged. He knew there was no use to press the issue further. Clegane and Giantsbane did not trust him, and they were certainly not going to assist in his attempts. He would have to do this on his own. He turned and stormed out of the door. Sandor slammed it behind him.

Tormund and Sandor stood staring at each other for a moment. Neither wanting to admit what seemed to be obvious. Finally, it was Sandor who broke the silence. “I think they may be in more danger than we thought.” He said, unable to hide the fear in his voice.

Tormund nodded. “Yeah.” He said painfully. “But there is no way I’m going to trust that Lannister cocksucker with Brienne’s life.” He swore.

“Or Sansa’s.” Sandor agreed.

“Then it’s all up to us.” Tormund said, his chest tightening with the enormity of their situation.

“It is.” Sandor acknowledged. “And we cannot fail them.” He vowed. The two men took a moment to contemplate their next course of action, both knowing they would not rest until the women they loved were cleared and back in their arms.

Miles away, Sansa and Brienne followed the old King’s Highway out of town. Heading into the darkness that was beginning to overtake them, Sansa steered Sandor’s motorcycle along the smooth pavement, trying not to think of what might lay ahead. Brienne held onto Sansa’s waist from behind, and swallowed the lump in her throat. She would be brave and strong for them both. Their path stretched out before them, leading North, but their hearts remained in Kings Landing with the men they loved.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Sansa are on the run and headed North, accused of murders they did not commit. While in Kings Landing, they have more allies determined to clear their names than they realize.

Sansa and Brienne rode almost all night. They were far from Kings Landing before they felt it safe enough to do as Sandor had instructed and pull into an isolated gas station in search of a burner phone. Parking in the shadows on the side of the building, Sansa retrieved the baseball cap she always kept in the saddlebags of Sandor’s motorcycle. She tucked her hair under the hat and looked questioningly at Brienne.

“How do I look?” Sansa tried to lighten their mood with a joke. She turned around a preened like some sort of model.

A faint hint of a nervous smile crossed Brienne’s face, before disappearing in favor of a worried frown. “Like you’re running from something.” She answered sadly.

“That bad?” Sansa sighed, and didn’t wait for Brienne’s answer. “Do you think it’s enough to fool the security cameras?” She asked, hopefully.

Brienne nodded. “I’d be surprised if this place has security cameras. She looked around cautiously. The gas station was little more than a filthy shack in the middle of nowhere. She would also be surprise if they had any cell phones.

“I know.” Sansa agreed. “It kind of gives me the creeps, too.” She reached for Brienne’s hand for comfort.

“You got another one of those hats?” Brienne chuckled.

Sansa looked earnestly at Brienne, and shook her head. “I’ll go by myself.” She said bravely.

“No.” Brienne countered protectively. “I’m not going to let you go in there alone.” She vowed.

Sansa smiled, touched by her friend’s caring, but pressed on. “Brienne.” Sansa lowered her eyes. She had not wanted to be so direct. “If there are cameras, they’ll know it’s you in an instant.” She reminded with a concerned sigh.

“My height.” Brienne’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. Sansa knew how sensitive Brienne was about standing a full head and shoulders above most men. Sansa had not meant to be hurtful.

“Brienne...” Sansa tried to console her. “I’m sorry.” She apologized.

“No. You’re right.” Brienne agreed. “I don’t want to raise any suspicions for us.” She tried to smile. Sansa gave her a reassuring gaze.

Changing the subject, Brienne brought their attention back to the matter at hand. “You should take the bike around to the front, and fill it up.” Brienne suggested. “That’s more plausible. Why else would you stop here?” She rolled her eyes.

Sansa laughed and nodded her understanding. “Ok, but then what do I get when I go inside?” She asked nervously.

“It’s just a packaged flip phone.” Brienne explained. “Just ask for a pay as you go phone. They’ll know what it is, and a place like this won’t ask questions.” She wagered.

Sansa breathed deep. “Ok, here goes.” She squeezed Brienne’s fingers for  
strength. Brienne returned the encouraging gesture, and steadied Sansa as she climbed back onto the bike. Before she started the engine again, Brienne stopped her.

“Pay with cash.” Brienne instructed. “And be careful.” Her brow creased with anxiety.

“Ok.” Sansa answered. “I won’t be long.” She gave a brave smile and raised herself to jump on the starter, then Brienne’s hand on her elbow stopped. “What?” She asked alarmed.

Brienne gave her a sly embarrassed smile. “I’m starving.” She grinned bashfully. “If you can, get us something to eat.” She urged.

That brought a wide grin to Sansa’s face that had not been there for days. “Ok.” She laughed, before bringing her weight down and coaxing the motorcycle’s engine to life. Brienne slipped back into the shadows and watched Sansa maneuver the bike around the corner toward the front of the building.

Sansa rolled up to the gas pump, nudged the kickstand into place, and slid stealthily from the seat. Her every move was vigilant, her eyes warily scanning the surroundings, alert for any sign of threat. Her movements were carefully timed as she twisted the cap from the gas tank, plunged the nozzle in and let the fuel pour to the top. She stood in the cold, her arms tightly wrapped around herself, uncertain if her chill came from the cold or from her frayed nerves.

Once the bike was full, and the handle replaced on the pump, Sansa breathed a deep and foreboding sigh, squared her shoulders, and headed nervously toward the front of the little convenience store. Pulling the brim of her cap down to cover her eyes, she kept her chin lowered as she entered. To her relief, the heavy set, tattoo-covered man at the counter barely acknowledged her arrival. He seemed far engrossed in the game show playing on the small black and white television sitting a few inches from the cash register.

“Ev’ning.” He hollered, without even looking up. Sansa lowered her voice, and kept her gate purposeful, answering with only a monotone grunt.

She made her way quickly toward the cooler. Reaching in she grabbed two waters, and then tried to hide in the chip aisle, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the clerk. He paid less attention to her while she shopped than he had when she walked in. She grabbed a bag of pretzel rods, and another of tortilla chips, and headed toward the front of the run down shop. Sansa dropped the items she had chosen on the counter, and added two large sized candy bars for good measure. She thought Brienne could use some chocolate. She was certain she could.

“That all for ya?” The bored clerk asked, stifling a yawn and barely looking up from the final round of the television trivia quiz in which he was engrossed.

Sansa’s stare was fixed on the counter as the man began ringing up the groceries. Slowly she raised her eyes, avoiding any contact with the store employee, but scanning the items for sale behind the counter furiously. Her eyes grazed the cigarette case, and trickled over the pornographic magazines on the lower shelves. She began to grow concerned. What if this particular store did not carry burner phones? Sansa could feel her pulse racing in her neck, and hoped the clerk did not sense her nervousness. To his credit, and quite possibly as a result of experience with his clientele, the man’s seemed to care little of what business his customer might have in mind, and was even less inclined to make himself noticed. Perhaps claiming ignorance later would be more believable if he were questioned by law enforcement, or their counterparts. Finally, Sansa’s glare fell upon a locked display case over the clerk’s shoulder, she could see the boxed phones packed tightly upon one of the shelves within. The packaging highlighted the parcels disposable nature by advertising it as a convenient and affordable option.

“I’ll take that cell phone.” She pointed, while trying to disguise her voice.

The cashier turned and fumbled with a set of keys that were attached to his belt. He unlocked the case and reached for the phone to which Sansa had gestured. “This one?” He questioned, only slightly interested if he was correct.

“Yeah.” Sansa answered in a near whisper.

Unconcerned, the clerk added the phone to Sansa’s purchases and bagged the food, while she dug a few bill from the small crossbody purse draped across her shoulders. The transaction was exchanged without issue. Sansa retrieved her change, picked up her bags, and left the store as quickly as she could, hoping the employee’s attention did not follow her. She nearly ran to the bike, lifted the top of the saddlebag, and drop the paper sack she carried inside. Watching over her shoulder, Sansa climbed atop the big burly machine, flicked back the kickstand with her heel, and started its loud growling engine.

For a moment Sansa ran her fingers across the handlebars, and down over the smooth sides of the motorcycle. She turned her head forward to stare into the deep dark night. Sansa allowed the throbbing resonate vibrations of the engine to play for a moment between her legs. It reminded her of him, of Sandor. Closing her eyes, she imagined her arms wrapped tightly around him, as they so many times when they been riding together. She longed for him to be with her now. Her heart shuddered thinking of how he far she was from him and the distance growing between them. Her spirit grew even more dismal imagining the anger and uncertainty which she was sure gnawed at him. Sansa knew he saw it as his personal mission to see her exonerated. She also knew he would not rest until she was back, safe in his embrace.

Sansa shivered in the cold night air and glanced south toward the road, back toward Sandor. “Help me, Baby.” She whispered on the wind, tears falling down her chilled cheeks.

Sansa sat wishing she could close the miles between herself and the man she loved for as long as she dared, then watching around her carefully, she gunned the motor and tore off toward the exit as if she were bound for the open road. Then at the last second, hoping she had eluded any interested eyes, she turned the front wheel and sped quickly toward the back of the cinder block store.

Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw no one near. Fear and worry for Brienne consumed Sansa’s thoughts. Her wide alarmed eyes darted terrified over the overgrown gravel scrub behind the gas station, and surveyed the trees beyond.

“Brienne!” Sansa called in a whispered shout, praying her friend would hear.

After a moment that seemed an eternity, Brienne emerged from behind a rusted dumpster where she had hidden herself. Sansa’s eyebrows shot toward the heavens, and she gave an exasperated huff.

“I thought I heard something.” Brienne shrugged her apology.

Sansa calmed quickly, relieved that Brienne was safe. “It’s alright.” She comforted. “I understand.” She nodded compassionately, realizing that Brienne must have been as frightened standing there in the dark night as she had been risking discovery inside the store. A knowing look passed between the women at their shared experience.

“Did you get it?” Brienne questioned hopefully, sprinting the short distance to the bike.

Sansa reached around and retrieved her purchase from the hard-sided storage box that hung beside her leg. “Is it the right kind?” She bit her lip, hoping her choice had been correct.

Brienne took the phone package from Sansa’s shaking hand, and smiled. “Yeah. That’s exactly what we need.” She smiled broadly.

“Should we try it?” Sansa suggested, eager to speak to Sandor.

“Not here.” Brienne warned. “The cabin has decent reception. We should wait until we get there.” She explain, and saw Sansa’s hopes fall as her shoulders slumped.

A sympathetic gaze crossed Brienne’s eyes and landed on Sansa. “I know.” Brienne commiserated. “I want to talk to Tormund, too.” She felt her heartbeat skip a little at the mention of his name. He had been all Brienne could think of as she and Sansa had made their way North. “I just don’t want to take any chances that someone might be following us. I want to be safe before we give any hint of our location to the outside world.”

Sansa nodded, still disappointed. “You’re right.” She agreed.

“We have to trust them.” Brienne reminded Sansa. She sensed her friend needed some hope to hold on to. “They won’t stop until they find something that will help us.” She affirmed.

“I know.” Sansa gave a half hearted smile. “I just need to hear Sandor’s voice.” She blushed.

Brienne lowered her eyes to the ground, wanting to allow Sansa her moment with Sandor’s image. “Of course you do.” She said softly after a while, taking Sansa’s hand. “As much as I need to hear Tormund’s.” Brienne concurred. Then her expression grew soft, as a warm reflective smile settle upon her lips. “I can almost sense his resolve. I feel as though he’s here with me.” She sighed, imagining Tormund’s arms around her.

A slight jealous chuckle left Sansa’s throat. “You’re lucky.” She lamented. “I feel like there a million miles between Sandor and me.” Her eyes began to cloud with tears.

Brienne squeezed Sansa’s fingers. “We’ll be with them again in no time.” She was eager to cheer her companion, and make herself believe the words she spoke. “You’ll see.” She tried to present a wide hopeful smile.

Sansa sniffled the tears back into her throat, and looked up at Brienne with a determined and thankful look. She understood what her friend was trying to do. “Of course.” She tried to look as excited as she could, realizing that Brienne needed desperately to hold onto the vision she described.

“Oh.” Sansa startled from her dark lament. “I got us some snacks.” She offered.

Brienne eye’s were grateful, but the rest of her face looked apprehensive. “Maybe we could find another empty parking lot or a secluded field somewhere a little further on.” She recommended, and looked over her shoulder. “All I can smell is that filthy dumpster.” She grimaced. “It’s really dampened my appetite.” She told Sansa. Brienne grimaced at the nauseating rotting sweetness of the odor Sansa was beginning to notice.

Sansa laughed a little at Brienne’s description, but understood why a different venue would be much more appropriate and leaned forward a little. “Sure. Come on.” She grinned. Brienne swung her leg over the back of the bike and took her seat once more behind Sansa. Then, once again lost in their own thoughts, the two fugitives sped off into the night, and into the unknown.  
——————————  
Jaime Lannister walked indignantly into the seedy rundown waterfront bar in which he knew he would undoubtedly find his most resourceful informant. The affiliation between Jaime and the conniving ex-con that he sought was most definitely one born more of mutual manipulation than of any trust. Jaime had enough dirt on the man to put him away for life. Then again, Jaime would not have wanted those of his secrets known by this particular career criminal to ever see the light of day. The two held each other in reciprocal suspicion, and left each other to go about their affairs. One’s expertise was only required by the other occasionally, however when it was, the motive was usually urgent and critical. This day, Jaime’s purpose was life and death. Not his, although he wished it were. The threat would have been much easier to abide.

He found Bronn Blackwater carelessly sitting with his back to the door, thoroughly engrossed in a game of poker, and loudly attempting to outwit the four lowlife thugs who were equally embroiled in the outcome of the hand. Jaime leaned against a panelled column a few feet away and amused himself watching Bronn’s best efforts at bluffing for a few moments before interrupting the illegal gambling match. He had a perfect view of the cards in Bronn’s hand.

“You sure you can afford that?” Bronn smirked at one of his fellow players. “Thought you had a pretty hefty bail judgement last month.” He laughed heartily at the angry looking tattoo covered man with the shaved head who sat across the table from him.

“You don’t need to worry about that.” The man warned with a glare. “That’s good money.” He pointed at his wager.

Bronn shrugged. “Alright.” He answered with a laugh. “But don’t be asking for it back the next time you get yourself thrown in the pen.” He chuckled, answering the man’s veiled threat with a dark grin meant to remind the other man that Bronn would think nothing of slicing his worthless throat. “I’m in.” He gleamed, sliding half of his stack of chips to the center of the table.

Jaime’s loud descending whistle pierced the shadowed darkness inside the bar, and drew the attention of the poker players. “Big words for a man with a two-seven hand.” He mocked.

Bronn winced in defeat, his eye roll finding its way to his neck as he threw his head back in disgust. He ignored the growls of his intended marks.

“Jaime Fucking Lannister.” Bronn announced rhetorically turning to regard his onlooker with dread.

“What kinda set up is this?” A scarred-face man sitting to Bronn’s right hissed and leaned threateningly toward him.

Bronn raised his hands in surrender. “No set up.” He feigned innocence, as Jaime moved closer to the table, his smirk growing wider, enjoying the show. Bronn nudged his thumb in Lannister’s direction. “This guy’s just an asshole.” He attempted to appease the burly crowd surrounding him.

“I’m out.” One the intimidating men announced, reaching for his portion of the money from the middle of the table and grabbing a bit more. Payment for his wasted time. The look on his face dared Bronn to argue. The other shady figures seated around the table followed suit, taking as much as they could grab, and disappearing deeper in the darkness of the bar’s interior. “This ain’t over!” One swore only a few centimeters from Bronn’s face as he left, regarding Jaime with an icy glare on the way.

“What do you want?” Bronn looked sideways at Jaime, who sidled into one of the seats left empty by the vacating gamblers.

“Just came for a visit.” Jaime laughed, mockingly.

Even Bronn found that amusing. “Yeah, right.” He moaned, knowing Jaime would not be there if he did not need something. It always seemed that when Jaime Lannister was involved, it usually meant a lot of trouble for him. “What do you want me to do for you this time?” He questioned with a scowl.

Bronn could not help but notice the change in Jaime’s disposition as he answered. He grew deadly serious. “Information.” Jaime admitted.

Downing the last of his whiskey with a grimace, Bronn immediately got down to business. “It’ll cost you.” He told Jaime, thinking about the small fortune that has just slipped through his hands.

Jaime turned his head and stared too intently at the wall on the other side of the room. “Money is no object.” He said sternly. “I’ll pay anything you want.” He gave away his eagerness too soon.

“This is about your ex.” Bronn concluded with a knowing grin.

“What about her.” Jaime tensed.

“The whole city’s talking about how she killed that Baratheon guy and ran, along with the Stark girl after she murdered your nephew.” Bronn taunted.

Jaime curled his hand into a fist, trying to control the urge to separate Bronn’s head from his shoulders. “Brienne didn’t kill anybody.” He seethed.

“Easy.” Bronn tried to diffuse Jaime’s anger. “All I’m saying is that’s it not in my best professional interest to leading the cops to two fellow criminals on the run.” He explained.

“You’ve done worse.” Jaime reminded.

“Yes.” Bronn admitted, but nobody knows that except for you and me.” He motioned toward the empty seats around the table. “Now, I’ve been seen with you, Detective.” He continued emphasizing Jaime’s professsional credentials. “How long do you think it’s going to take for even those idiots to figure out who you are, and put two and two together?” He conjectured. Bronn shook his head. “I won’t last a day in this town.” His mind was already filling with all the possible ways he would meet his demise.

Jaime shook his head, the muscles in his jaw had still not relaxed. “I don’t want to arrest Brienne.” He corrected. “I want to help her.” He vowed.

Bronn sat back and studied Jaime with a raised brow. “You’re still in love with her.” He chuckled knowingly.

“That’s none of your Godsdamn business.” Jaime swore, his patience thinning by the moment. “All you need to worry about is how much money you’re going to make for a few hours work.” He tempted.

“Just what is it I’m supposed to find out about Miss Tarth and Miss Stark?” Bronn asked suspiciously.

“I need to know who really killed Renly and Joffrey.” Jaime told him, deadly serious.

Bronn sat back, and studied Jaime incredulously. “Well, it sure as Hells wasn’t me.” He scoffed.

Jaime leaned forward, his patience gone. “Enough Bullshit!” He demanded. “There’s nothing that happens on the shady side of Kings Landing that doesn’t have your fingerprints all over it.” He voiced the obvious. “Whatever illicit activity in which you’re not directly involved, you know about.” He asserted. “The people who did this were professionals. You’re probably the only person in this damned city who can find out who they are.” He conceded.

“Isn’t that your job?” Bronn mocked.

Jaime sat back a bit deflated. “I’ve tried.” He confessed. “There’s nothing. No evidence. No trail. No sign of whoever did it, or who’s behind it.” He informed Bronn.

“So you think this goes higher up?” Bronn questioned.

“It has to.” Jaime replied with certainty. “It’s too coincidental, and yet too similar.” His eyes went distant, the facts he had uncovered thus far running through his head.

Bronn could sense Jaime’s uneasiness and grew uncomfortable at the sudden peace between them. He hated the thought of turning compassionate where Jaime Lannister was concerned, and quickly brought the conversation back around to the matter at hand.

“What’s it to you, anyway?” Bronn watched Jaime cynically. “I’m sure you hardly know the Stark girl.” He continued. “And you and Bri...Miss Tarth aren’t even together anymore.” He glared. “She’s with somebody else, now.” He could almost feel sorry for Lannister. “Why is it so important to you to help a woman who is in love with another man?” He shook his head in disbelief.

‘Was there anything that happened in Kings Landings that Bronn didn’t know about?’ Jaime thought to himself. Then he reminded himself why he had come there in the first place. That was exactly how he knew he had been right in asking for his help, even it meant owing this immoral scoundrel his soul. It was a sacrifice he would gladly make for Brienne.

“So I can protect them.” Jaime pleaded.

“You mean, so you can solve before your sister gets to them.” Bronn guessed judgementally.

“Yes. Dammit!” Jaime shot back. “Cersei’s got her hired guns crawling all over the continent. There may not be much time before she finds them.” He would beg if he had to.

“You know where they are.” Bronn’s smile

Jaime suddenly became very quiet. “You don’t need to worry about that.” He would give away no more of his secrets to someone who would think nothing of using them for his own gain.

Bronn knew exactly who he would have to consult to find what Jaime sought. He also knew that none of his contact would just give away that kind of information. He could tell by the urgency in Lannister’s request, that this was more than just a just a simple job. Apparently, where Brienne Tarth was concerned, Jaime Lannister would risk everything, or agree to anything.

“Alright.” Bronn nodded. “But after this, we’re clear.” He demanded. “I don’t work for you, anymore.” He extorted. “I forget all of your secrets, and you forget all of mine.” Bronn eyed Jaime seriously.

Jaime did not hesitate. “Deal.” He agreed, sticking out his hand to bind the oath.

Bronn met Jaime’s offer, and shook his outstretched palm firmly. “Deal.” He returned with a cool wry stare.

Jaime stood, and retrieved the wallet from his pocket. He opened it like the gesture meant nothing to him. He dug out a few hundred dollar bills, and threw them on the table in front of Bronn. “What’s that for?” Bronn questioned suspiciously.

“Consider it a down payment.” Jaime told him caustically, and turned to leave, hoping he had been right to trust Bronn with Brienne’ life, but he had no other choice.  
————————————  
Tyrion shrank into the back booth of the nondescript coffee shop, trying to make his small stature even smaller. The message on his voicemail had directed him to this out-of-the-way establishment at exactly this time. It was the kind of cafe that looked as though it had not changed in forty years. It also appeared to frequented by few, and what other patrons who sat hunched over their coffees and pieces of pie appeared to have precious little interest in anyone else in the place. The recording he had found on his office phone that morning had been cryptic, rushed. Whoever had been on the other end had obviously tried to disguise their voice. However, it was clearly a woman who had begged him to make the journey across town to this place on the outskirts.

As he sat, pensively waiting, Tyrion replayed the events of the past weeks in his mind. It had been slightly over a month since he had shared his suspicions with Sansa and Brienne and their respective significant others, a little over a month since the two women had disappeared. Since then, Clegane and Giantsbane had almost torn Kings Landing to the ground searching for evidence to clear their lovers, but it seemed they were making little progress. What they needed was undeniable proof of the accusations that Tyrion had leveled against his sister. That was also what was proving the most difficult to find.

A chill ran down Tyrion’s spine at the thought of Sansa on the run, terrified and hiding. He had been in love with her since the moment he met her. He knew,however, that Sansa considered him nothing more than a good friend. Her heart belonged to Sandor Clegane. A sneer of resentment crossed Tyrion’s face, picturing the tall beast of a man with whom Sansa was in love, and how very different the one time bodyguard turned private detective was from himself. If friendship was all there could ever be between Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister, he would gladly take it.

Sipping his stale burnt coffee, Tyrion wondered at the irony that both he and his brother should know the heartache of loving women they could never have. Tyrion knew that Jaime still loved Brienne. He was certain his tall handsome brother’s heart would always belong to the woman he had been forced to give up. The woman who loved someone else, with whom she was making a life, moving farther from Jaime every day. The one thing Tyrion was sure of was that even if they would never be with the women they each loved, he and Jaime would stop at nothing to see them safe.

Finally looking up from his thoughts, Tyrion noticed someone entering the coffee shop. The newcomer was clad in a dark hoodie and jeans, eyes hidden by large sunglasses. A leather messenger bag was draped across the stranger’s torso. Even under the disguise, Tyrion could tell it was a woman. Her head darted suspiciously, surveying her surroundings nervously, as she made her way toward his table.

Stopping beside the dingy Formica slab that separated the two benches, she surveyed the street beyond the large window before turning her full attention to Tyrion. As the young lady removed her sunglasses, Tyrion finally saw who it was that had sought him out. “Thank you for meeting me.” Margaery Tyrell almost whispered, sliding onto the seat opposite Tyrion, her back to the door.

“Margaery.” Tyrion proclaimed in shock. “I have to say I’m surprised.” He admitted.

She had taken a job as head of the accounting department at Black Stag Industries when her engagement to Joffrey had been announced. It had appeared she was eager to become part of the family business. He remembered Sansa telling him that her good friend had spent long evenings working overtime to acquaint herself with the companies systems and accounts. Tyrion now suspected that her motives were not purely professional, nor familial.

Margaery ignored Tyrion’s astonishment and slumped over the table, eyeing him seriously. “I’m sorry for the deception.” She said dryly. “I had to make sure our conversation would be completely secret.” She whispered, signaling to the waitress for a cup of coffee as the woman walked up to them. The older heavyset server turned quickly to fill Margaery‘s order.

“Why do we need to meet in secret?” Tyrion asked. He could not help but think that this had something to do with the accusations against Sansa and Brienne.

“Because I think I’ve found something.” Margaery continued her earnest explanation. “Something that points directly to Cersei.” She informed him.

Tyrion said nothing, but raised an intrigued eyebrow. Margaery opened the pouch she carried, and took out a nondescript looking flash drive. She held it tightly in her thin fingers. Tyrion noticed that even though Margery clenched her fist trying to control the tiny tremor that ran up her arm, she was undeniably shaking. From her jumpy demeanor, he imagined her trembling was the result of fear.

“Before I give this to you, I need your word that you won’t tell anyone you got it from me.” Margaery begged emphatically. “Not your brother, not the police, not even Sansa.” She glared at him, needing a guarantee.

A cloud of mistrust passed over Tyrion’s eyes, but dissipated in favor of curiosity. “What’s on it?” He questioned, eyeing the small black cylinder hungrily. There had never been any love lost between Tyrion and Cersei, and he had often times fantasized about getting her out of his life, and Jaime’s.

“First, your word.” Margaery begged.

Tyrion nodded in agreement. “Of course.” He conceded. “You have me word.” He told her seriously. “Now, about it’s contents. What could be on it that is so important?” He questioned.

“Proof.” Margaery lowered her voice even further, sliding the flash drive across the table and into Tyrion’s possession. He covered it jealously with his palm as the waitress returned with the coffee Margaery had ordered. It was hot and steaming, and she downed the first gulp greedily as if it were whiskey.

“Could you elaborate, a bit?” Tyrion searched for more information.

Margaery took another long drink, soothed by the warmth it created in her bones. “It took me a while to figure it all out.” She began. “At first it seemed like just accounting mistakes. But then I realized...” She took a breath, almost afraid of what she had to report. “There’s too much. It’s hidden too deep.” She looked seriously at Tyrion. His mind was churning, beginning to understand the impact of her words.

“So, you’re saying someone is hiding transactions at Black Stag.” He clarified.

Margaery nodded. “Not someone.” She corrected.

“Cersei.” Tyrion voice rhetorically.

Margaery nodded emphatically. “Black Stag is dumping money.” She explained. “It’s hidden in the fine details of other accounts, but it’s there.” She went on. “Cash is being funneled to a dummy corporation in the Summer Isles.” She paused, realizing the gravity of the situation. “There’s only one person at Black Stag with that kind of clearance and access to the accounts.”

It was Tyrion this time who gulped greedily at the cold coffee in his cup. Of course he knew that ultimately it was Cersei who controlled all assets and funds at her husband’s corporation.

“That’s not all.” Margaery went on, urgently. “I analyzed the financials of that dummy corporation. By law, they are public record. It’s been buying up bundles stock in Westeros, from the same company.” She gave Tyrion a knowing glance.

“Stark Incorporated.” He stated, certain of his conjecture. There was no need for Margaery to confirm his statement. They both new it was the truth.

“If Cersei manages to pull off a take over of the Stark’s company...” Tyrion swallowed hard at the image in his mind. “That would make her...” He could scarce continue.

“The most powerful woman in Westeros.” Margaery finished for him. They felt their blood chill at all that would mean.

“Well.” Tyrion said somberly. “We cannot let that happen.” He declared.

“That’s why I brought this to you.” Margaery agreed, sliding toward the edge of the booth. “I knew you would know what to do with it.” She dipped her eyes toward the flash drive in Tyrion’s hand. “Just keep my name out of it.” She reminded him.

Tyrion asserted his compliance. “No on will know it came from you.” He promised.

It seem to be enough to assure his compatriot, who stood to leave. “Margaery.” Tyrion stopped her momentum, and she turned to regard him a bit impatiently. “I have not had the opportunity to extend my condolences on the loss of your new husband.” So strained were Tyrions terms with his own sister that he had not even attempted to attend his nephew’s funeral.

“I am so sorry.” Tyrion lamented.

Margaery‘s expression was devoid of emotion as she answered. “Don’t be.” She glared. “Marriages of convenience are seldom mourned for long.” Her tone held no sadness her gaze fixed straight ahead of her.

Without another word, Margaery walked away. Tyrion looked down at the flash drive. He had been holding it so tightly that its imprint was pressed into his palm. He breathed deeply as a hollow pit grew within him. He hoped it was enough to clear Brienne, for Jaime’s sake. He prayed it was enough save Sansa. Even if she did not want him, he could not bare to imagine the future with her locked away.  
——————————  
“Are you sure nobody’s following us?” Sandor grilled anxiously, turning to check out of the back window of Tormund’s pick-up truck.

“There’s no one back there.” Tormund answered assuredly. His attention had been fixed in the rear view mirror since they had left Sandor’s office.

They had been working nearly day and night since Brienne and Sansa had been forced to go on the run, trying to find any evidence that could clear them. They found precious little. Whoever was responsible for the murders had kept their tracks covered well. Both Tormund and Sandor were beginning to show the frustrations of their fruitless searching. There had been a few scheduled talks with Sansa and Brienne on the burner phone number the women had procured. However, those were always short, and always disappointing. There never seemed to be any good news to share that could alleviate the women’s fears. Sandor’s anger grew even more fierce than it had been before, and and had nothing upon which to unleash itself except everyone around him. His file cabinet and office walls now bore the scars of his desperate fear that the future may be one without Sansa. Tormund had not been home in days. Everything there made him think of Brienne, and he could not bear to be in the house they shared without her.

The phone call had come near midnight. At first Sandor and Tormund feared it might be from the girl’s cell phone. It was not a predetermined time, and they knew that could mean nothing good. They had been sitting in Sandor’s office, trying to drink their troubles away, both feeling like they were failing the women they loved and the shrill tone of the phone nearly forced both to draw their guns in surprise. Sandor sent his chair falling backward as he jumped to answer it.

He had not heard from Berric Dondarrion, his old army buddy turned Kings Landing Detective, since the day he had asked the man to follow Sansa’s case. It had been weeks. Sandor assumed that Dondarrion had found nothing, but after their short conversation on the phone less than an hour before he suddenly had reasons to hope.

“The autopsy report is in, Joffrey Baratheon’s autopsy report.” Beric had announced. “We need to talk.” He insisted.

Sandor was sure his office was being watched, as was probably his and Sansa’s respective apartments, as well and Tormund and Brienne’s house. Deciding it was best not to advertise the identity of his police informant, Sandor had chosen a bar he knew on the outskirts of the city as the setting for their meeting. The place was frequented mostly by bikers and people on their way either to or from prison. Besides Berric, there would not be another cop around for miles. Sandor and Tormund ran out the door, and were on the road within minutes.

The bar was seedy and dark. It was the kind of place in which only a mean looking hulk of a private investigator, and a confident well-trained career military man would feel even remotely safe. A few of the patrons raised their eyebrows as Sandor and Tormund walked in. They then thought better of any challenges that came to mind, and returned to their beers. The men chose a table in the corner, and waited for the information they hoped would give them reason to call Sansa and Brienne with some good news at last.

They had half finished their first round when Dondarrion walked through the door. His eye patch made the man look a lot more imposing than he felt as he strode to the table, his gaze kept down so as not meet anyone’s glare along the way. “You couldn’t have picked a bit homier place to meet?” He chided Clegane.

“Fuck Homie.” Sandor growled. “It’s private, and not a Lannister goon in the place.” His sour expression matched his mood as he downed nearly all, of what was left of his beer.

Berric drew up a chair and sat so he could see the door, as well as the other drinkers in the establishment. The slinkily clad, over the hill, waitress scooted over to the table, her hips arriving before she did. “What’ll be, honey?” She asked around the wad of chewing gum in her jaw. He gestured toward the tall long neck bottle that sat in front of Clegane and Giantsbane, his order more to seem as though he belonged than any enjoyment of the drink he would down. The waitress strutted away, sure to give the men a lingering view of her backside as she left.

“You said you found something, in the autopsy report?” Tormund questioned impatiently. His world had shrunk to the nagging ache of missing and worrying about Brienne that never left his heart.

“Yeah.” Berric nodded. “It was titanium sulfide.” He stated, as if that should mean something.

“Never heard of it.” Sandor barked.

“No reason you would.” Berric conceded. “Unless you’re in the cosmetics industry.” He shrugged.

“Cosmetics?” Tormund’s brow wrinkled, wondering what Brienne’s make-up drawer had to do with any of this.

They sat closed mouth as the flirtatious waitress returned, giving them all a seductive eye. Berric smiled a thank you as he took a gulp of the cold brew, which seems to make the woman’s day. She reminded them over sweetly to let her know if they needed anything and then sauntered off to turn her attentions to a group of loud bikers near the pin ball machine, perhaps reading that she would not get far with the three overly serious sour pusses in the corner.

“Hear me out.” Berric continued once she was out of earshot. “Titanium Sulfide was used in women’s cosmetics until about fifty years ago.” He explained the research he had done that afternoon. “But it turned out, the damn stuff’s poison.” He shook his head. It might have been funny, if it had not been true. “A bunch of women died from overexposure to it.” He stated, holding back his real news.

“So Joffrey was wearing make up?” Sandor allowed himself a laugh.

“No.” Dondarrion rolled his eyes. “But somehow he ingested a lot of it.” He reported. “Enough to kill him.” He said, relating the findings of the autopsy.

“How would somebody get that into him in the middle of his own wedding?” Tormund questioned. “And what in the Hells does it have to do with Brienne? She wasn’t even there.” He challenged.

“I’m getting to that.” Berric’s eye almost twinkled with the information he relayed.

“As for how all that poison got into Baratheon.” He brought the conversation back to his investigative skills. “It’s a powder. We found traces of it on the cake.” He said, taking another swallow from his long neck.

“Somebody spiked the little cunt’s wedding cake.” Sandor repeated. “That should clear Sansa.” He nodded as if it were certain. “She didn’t dump a bunch of powder on it.” He chuckled.

Dondarrion winced a little, predicting Clegane’s response to his next bit of information. “The department isn’t willing to drop the charges against her yet.” Berric feared Sandor might take out the frustrations at that news on his face.

“So their still railroading her?” Sandor seethed.

“And Brienne.” Tormund stared at Berric ruefully.

“Listen.” Dondarrion tried to calm them. “I did a little digging on my own.” He tried to appease them. “Neither Stark Incorporated, nor Black Stag has any cosmetics holdings.” He leaned forward to emphasize his words. “But there is one company with similar financials that does.” He paused. “Tyrell International.” Sandor and Tormund eyed each other suspiciously.

“Margery’s family.” Sandor said rhetorically, remembering the close friendship between Sansa and Joffrey’s widow.

“The Tyrell’s have ties to Renly, too.” Tormund’s mind was racing connecting the dots that led to Brienne. He remembered their visit with Loras Tyrell, Renly’s lover, the morning after the murder.

“Margery is Sansa’s friend. Do you mean she’s setting up my girl?” Sandor’s tone rose with his anger.

Berric lowered his head. “We don’t know that yet.” He held his hands up, trying to pacify Sandor. “I’m going to keep digging until I put all these pieces together.” He swore. “But you can’t go tipping our hand to anyone. Nobody knows we can connect this to the Tyrells, and if they suspect anything, those doors will shut, and we may never be able to get them open again.” He stared seriously at Sandor, silently begging him to wait a little while longer.

Sandor studied the remains of his beer, and reluctantly nodded his understanding. “You’d better hurry, because time’s running out.” Sandor warned. “If you, or the cops, or somebody can’t get this off of Sansa and Brienne, we will.” He pointed assuredly at Tormund, who glared back at Berric with equal ferocity. In that moment, Berric knew there was not much time before Clegane and Giantsbane took matters into their own hands.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime’s search for evidence to clear Brienne and Sansa is running into nothing but dead ends. That is until Tyrion brings him a clue that could point toward the most dangerous player in the game. A conversation with his brother, spurs Jaime to finally make a fateful decision.

Jaime had barely been back to his condo in days. A quick shower, and a change of clothes, and then he was off again, chasing down leads and trying to find the murderer who was framing Brienne and Sansa Stark. He spent no time actually searching for the missing women. Jaime knew exactly where they were. He had checked Tormund Giantsbane out thoroughly, and secretly, the moment Brienne began dating the burly army Sergeant from the North. Jaime knew all about Brienne’s boyfriend, and had found nothing that could even remotely pose a threat to the woman he still loved. The truth was that Jaime was relieved that she had found someone who would protect her. If he himself could not be the one in her life, he wanted her to safe and secure, both physically and emotionally. It was clear the Giantsbane adored Brienne, and would never allow anything to harm her. Even at that moment, Jaime knew the man to whom Brienne’s heart now belonged was working as relentlessly as he was to clear her name.

Jaime knew that Tormund owned a fishing cabin just north of where the infamous Wall of history’s legends once stood. Not a month after he had seen Brienne and her new admirer dining together, so engrossed in each other that they had not seen him watching them from the bar, Jaime had stumbled across the deed to the cabin on the public records website while investigating the license plate number he had quickly scrawled as they left the parking lot. Jaime had taken a few personal days from the police department, and driven all the way up to where Winter almost never let go its grip on the land. His purpose, to find the small log structure, and to make sure there were no bodies buried in the woods or pad locked out buildings just large enough to hold a lone woman. Even as he drove the distance, Jaime knew it was ridiculous. Brienne was plenty capable of taking care of herself, but if he could not be with her, he was going to make damn sure she would be alright.

The cabin was remote and secluded, and would provide a perfect hiding place for two women running from just about everyone in Kings Landing. It gave Jaime some comfort knowing Brienne was safe, but for how long he wondered. He understood that if he could discover the whereabouts of the cabin, then so too could Cersei’s unscrupulous investigators. He could not escape the gnawing feeling that he should venture North, just to check. Just to make sure his sister’s vultures had not already found them.

The loud shrill tone of the doorbell, and a hard knock on his front door brought Jaime back to consciousness. He jumped as his mind reached upward from the heavy dark grips of the deep sleep he had been unable to fight in the early morning hours. During the previous late night, he had lost himself in the notes and files he had accumulated on Brienne and Sansa’s case. Perched in his favorite corner of the plush sofa his family’s money had purchased him, his legs stretched on the heavy wooden antique coffee table procured from the same resource, he tried to delve into the clues from every angle. The fatigue in his body had taken over, as his mind had filled with visions of Brienne. His dreams were his only refuge.

Jaime rose stiffly from his where he had slept, his head crooked onto his chest. His body ached and his muscles were sore. He neck felt as though someone had nearly twisted it from his shoulders. His bones cracked and popped, the stretch he hoped would loosen the knots from his spine did not have its desired affect. Jaime pulled his rumpled clothing back into place as he padded across his living room on aching feet toward whomever stood on the other side of the front door.

“You look like shit.” Tyrion announced as Jaime stepped back to let him enter.

“Nice to see you, too.” Jaime rolled his eyes, pushing the door shut.

Tyrion strode haughtily into the darkened interior of the high end condominium. “It’s like a tomb in here.” He looked disgusted.

“Was there something you needed.” Jaime inquired, sounding annoyed. He was not in the mood for company, even his own brother. He was most definitely not in any humor to be insulted.

“Take a shower, and put on some fresh clothes.” Tyrion ordered. “I’ll wait.” He said generously. “How about some breakfast?” He offered. “My treat.” Tyrion smiled.

Jaime shook his head. “I can’t.” He declined. “I have to get back to work.” His leads on Brienne’s case had stalled, and he had not heard from Bronn since the evening he extorted his help. Jaime could not afford to let a moment lapse, or even to catch up with his brother. Brienne was running out of time.

Tyrion narrowed his gaze upon Jaime. “I’ve found something.” He divulged. “And you’re going to want to hear this.” He almost cracked a smile, imagining that he could perhaps help not only his brother and the woman Jaime loved, but also Sansa, the one he loved as well.

Always suspicious when Tyrion got the look eye which he now wore, like a fox left in charge of the chicken coup, Jaime crossed his arms and studied his brother cautiously. “What is it, Tyrion?” Jaime grumped. “I really can’t spare the time.” There was a spark of urgency in his tone.

“I know.” Tyrion conceded. “I know that you’re running yourself ragged, trying to keep our sister away from Brienne and Sansa.” He sighed, understanding how much Jaime had hurt when he left Brienne.

“I am trying to solve this case.” Jaime answered, desperate to keep anyone from realizing the depths of the feelings he still held for Brienne.

Tyrion lowered his chin, and gave Jaime a disbelieving frown. “Yeah, sure.” He scowled. “And I’m six feet tall.” He chuckled wryly, looking up at his brother from his lower vantage point.

“Not funny, Tyrion.” Jaime replied, frustrated.

“Ok.” Tyrion threw up his hands in defeat. “But maybe what I have to say will put you in a better mood.” He smiled.

“Doubt it.” Jaime’s brow creased in opposition.

“Try me.” Tyrion grinned hopefully.  
——————————  
It had taken a little more coaxing, but finally Tyrion had managed to drag a glum and glowering Jaime from his darkened hideout, to a quiet trendy cafe a few minutes away. They chose a small booth by the window, slightly away from the crowd where their conversation would not be overheard. The server rushed to fill their cups and bring them menus, sensing a large tip from the well dress men whom she noticed had arrived in an expensive luxury car. Tyrion had ordered himself a feast fit for a king, while Jaime settled for coffee and toast, his appetite not even large enough for that. Tyrion noticed Jaime’s rejection of his attempt to buy him breakfast, but let it pass.

Once their orders had been take, and their cups refilled, their talk finally turned to the reason Tyrion had shown up at Jaime’s door that morning. “So. Are you going to tell me why it was so important that I come with you this morning, or do I have to guess?” Jaime muttered.

Tyrion ignored the minor note of annoyance in his voice, and retrieved the flash drive Margery had given him. “This, brother.” His smiled gleamed as he held up the tiny nondescript device.

“That?” Jaime asked. “What’s on it, your term paper?” He mocked. He could not recall needing the use of a flash drive since he was in college.

“No.” Tyrion scoffed. “Proof.” He proclaimed.

“Proof?” Jaime repeated. “Of what?” He asked, still uncertain of his brother’s motive.

“That our dear sister is planning one of the largest corporate take-overs in history.” Tyrion whispered as if the entire room were spying on them. “On this drive are all the files and figures to prove they Cersei has been secretly buying up Stark stock.” He announced. “She is trying to take over Sansa’s company.” He almost laughed in his own excitement. He had amused himself for days with thoughts of destroying his sister’s best laid plans.

“Oh. Finances?” Jaime remarked, disappointed that Tyrion’s big surprise did not seem to be anything useful in trying to prove Brienne and Sansa’s innocence.

His boredom at the topic was evident. Jaime had no head for business, and even less interest. He had always struggled with academics. It had been a family embarrassment, one their father had never let him forget, or live down. Jaime’s talents had always lay more in action. Real-world problems held his attentions more than lines on a page. That talent had led him to police work. It was also what drew him to Brienne. She had been a conundrum. Brienne was one of the most brilliant people he had ever met. She could have easily been running a corporate empire of her own. However, she found little use for doldrums of office life. Brienne thrived in the all of the same action and reality that made him feel useful, worthy, capable. She made him come alive. Where all he had known was the controlling weight of his family’s wishes pressing down upon him, she freed him to be exactly what he was always meant to be, honorable, noble, honest. The way she made him feel, and how they had been drawn to each other, was the only real and pure thing he had ever known. But, it was over. He had ruined it.

“Not just finances.” Tyrion continued raising his voice in a near frenzy, not realizing that Jaime was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely heard a word. His increasing decibel level brought Jaime’ attention back to their interaction. “Evidence.” He concluded with finality.

Jaime’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. “Evidence that she is framing Brienne and Sansa?” His thoughts were singular in their path.

Tyrion gave a dejected sigh. “Well, maybe not direct evidence.” He acquiesced. “But she’s certainly profiting from it.” He added.

Jaime took one final gulp of coffee as he slid toward the edge of the bench. He needed facts, actual clues. “Well, thanks for the coffee, Tyrion. But I really don’t have time for this.” His voice polite, but irritated.

Tyrion grabbed for his brother’s hand, and held him tightly in place. “Hear me out.”

It was Jaime’s turn to let out a discouraged sigh. He moved back to the center of the booth to face Tyrion. “Fine.” He answered. His brother had been nearly the only person to whom Jaime had been able to confide since he had given up Brienne to please their sister. Tyrion had seen Jaime through some of the roughest days and nights of his life, and had asked for nothing in return. He would give him a few more minutes, knowing he owed his brother much more.

“This is proof that Cersei is manipulating stock prices.” Tyrion clutched the flash drive, almost under Jaime’s nose. “She’s taking advantage of the current climate of uncertainty at Stark Inc. She’s buying up as much Stark stock as she can get her hands on, and she’s using Black Stag money to do it.” His eye’s twinkled knowingly at Jaime as if he should comprehend what it all meant.

Jaime raised his eyebrows accentuating the fact that he did not understand the point of Tyrion’s excitement. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed do when you run a company?” He asked.

“No, it’s not.” Tyrion mimicked Jaime’s quizzical look. “You can try to influence the economic tide, but mostly you have to let market determine pricing.” Tyrion explained. “What Cersei’s doing is highly illegal.” He informed Jaime. “You know she wouldn’t even be attempting it if the leadership at Stark was intact.” Tyrion said with certainty.

“So it’s in her best interest to keep Sansa away from her family’s company.” Jaime began to follow Tyrion’s logic. “Are you saying Cersei is framing Sansa for Joffrey’s murder?” He said, shocked.

“Yes.” Tyrion nodded. “That is exactly what I’m saying.” He proclaimed excitedly.

Jaime thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “No.” He protested. “It doesn’t make sense. Don’t you think Cersei would rather know who killed her son, than...” Jaime tried to argue.

“Than make millions, and become the most powerful woman in Westeros?” Tyrion tilted his head, surely Jaime had to see exactly to what lengths Cersei would go to feed her own greed for money and power.

Jaime was pensive for a moment. Of course he knew Tyrion was right. He knew Cersei would do just about anything for that kind of power, even using her own child’s death to further her ambition. However, one thing was still unclear.

“But what about Brienne?” Jaime asked, confused. “What would Cersei have to gain by framing her for Renly’s murder.” He eyed Tyrion, not wanting to admit what he feared was the truth. That Brienne’s legal entanglement had more to do with himself than her connections to either the Starks or the Baratheons.

Tyrion lifted his chin, realizing that Jaime did not want to admit the truth. “That’s simple.” He continued. He would have to be direct. “You.” Tyrion answered.

Jaime shook his head. “She has me.” He lamented. “She has me right where she wants me. I already walked away from Brienne, like she asked me to.” His voice nearly broke to remember the worst choice he had ever made.

Tyrion looked sympathetically at Jaime. He understood how giving Cersei so much power over his life had broke his brother. “But you are still in love with Brienne.” He acknowledged what Jaime could not deny was the truth, not to Tyrion, anyway. He could always read Jaime like a book.

Jaime exhaled slowly, and sat as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Tyrion was the first person to put his intense feelings for Brienne into words. He fidgeted with the handle of his cup, and stared at it as if his exaggerated attention to something so mundane could make the truth about something so monumental go away, or at least hurt less.

“She did it again.” Tyrion ventured on.

“What?” Jaime asked, knowing full well what his brother meant. His pride not allowing him to agree.

“What she always does.” Tyrion shook his head, giving Jaime a mournful look. “Take everything from you until there’s nothing left.” He said, ruefully. “Nothing, except what she wants. Nothing but her.” Tyrion seethed.

Jaime did not answer. He could not argue. He knew Tyrion was right. He had always allowed Cersei to run charge of his life. Whatever she had demanded of him, he had given without question, even the woman he loved.

Tyrion would not be deterred by the dismal, pained look in Jaime’s eyes. He pressed on. “Just because Cersei forced you to walk away from Brienne, doesn’t mean you stopped loving her.” His voice grew calm, compassionate. “I saw you two together. I know how much you loved her, love her still. I know she is the only woman you ever really loved.” He studied Jaime, waiting for a reaction.

Jaime had tried to let her go, completely. He had tried to take all the longing he had for Brienne and will it away. He had buried his heart so deep in work, and liquor, and family, that for awhile he could almost believe his feelings had grown as cold as his heart. Then, something would happen. Their song would play on the radio, the back of another woman in a crowd would resemble Brienne a little too closely, or the wind would blow in a way that reminded him of her voice when she sang in the shower, and it would come welling up around him to steal his resolve, and break his heart again.

“What would you have me do, Tyrion?” Was Jaime’s only acknowledgement that Tryion’s words were true.

Tyrion smiled wide, and self-satisfied. “Go get her back.” He dared, his face lighting up like a Sevenmas Tree.

Jaime sighed sharply in wry exasperation. Tyrion countered with a droll chuckle. “Don’t even try to sit there and tell me you don’t know exactly where she is.” His eyes grew hopeful, thinking of Sansa. “Where they both are.” He watched Jaime confidently. “You’re too damn good of a detective for that.” Tyrion praised.

Jaime’s face suddenly mirrored Tyrion’s intuition. “What about you?” He gave his brother a knowing sneer. Tyrion’s face grew as innocent as a child’s. He feigned ignorance.

“This is not all about seeing our sister rotting in jail, and it certainly is about business ethics.” Jaime challenged. “Your shit at hiding your feeling too, you know? At least from me.” He turned a serious eye upon Tyrion. “This has more to do with Sansa Stark than saving her company from a take-over.” He conjectured.

Tyrion sat back, unable to meet Jaime’s grilling gaze. “That’s irrelevant.” He answered stiffly.

“Is it?” Jaime retorted. “You love Sansa?” He asked rhetorically. “How is that any different than my feelings for Brienne?” He might as well have been in an interrogation room at Headquarters. He was not letting Tyrion off the hook that easy, not after he had forced him to admit what he felt for Brienne.

Tyrion sighed, and took a tasteless sip of his coffee, forestalling his lament. “We were never lovers.” He replied regretfully. “Sansa is in love with Clegane.” He whispered. “I couldn’t ruin her happiness for my own selfishness.” He almost smiled at the thought of Sansa’s joy.

Jaime nodded, his own spirits falling. “Not so very different.” He return his sad eyes to the table between them. “Brienne is with someone else now.” He muttered.

“But, if you went to her.” Tyrion suggested. “Told her how you feel. Groveled a little bit.” He chortled. “You might have a chance.” He reasoned.

Jaime merely shook his head. “I stood in that Emergency Room, not five paces from Brienne the other night.” He began. “All I wanted was to pick her up off that table and run as fast as I could with her, someplace so far away that no one could ever find us.” He held his eyes shut remembering his worry over her, and his pain when she gave her attentions to another. “She didn’t even see me, barely knew I was in the room.” Jaime lamented. “All she cared about, all she wanted, was to be with him.” He told Tyrion painfully. “No. It wouldn’t matter. Brienne is in love with Giantsbane. I blew it.” He choked.

Jaime and Tyrion sat in silence for a long moment, each pondering their own losses, and their own deficits. It was Tyrion who broke the hush between them. “Well then.” He remarked, raising his coffee in a toast. “Here’s to the Lannister brothers. The best looking losers in Kings Landing.” He grinned.

Jaime felt his mood lighten at Tyrion’s sarcastic comment. He clanked his mug against Tyrion’s offer. “That we are, Brother.” He joined in the lighthearted mirth. “That we are.” He downed his last drop of coffee, and laughed.

Later that morning Jaime sat in traffic, heading across town to Headquarters. Tyrion had dropped him back at his condo, and he had not even bothered going inside. Jumping into his own car, he sped toward anything further he could gather in helping Brienne. His mind raced, trying to connect the invisible dots that should be leading to whomever was framing her, but were not. There was something missing. His thoughts filled with her as he wondered how she was, hiding away so far in the North. He hoped she was not frightened. He prayed she was not losing certainty that everything would be alright. He would see to it, if it was the last thing he ever did.

His conversation with Tyrion echoed in his ears. Yes he still loved Brienne. Of course, he would always love her. At that thought, he flipped on the radio trying to find a distraction. He sat in the middle of the crowded freeway, wanting to explode. Every note that played through the speakers brought Brienne so clearly to his mind. He could almost feel her beside him. For a moment he lost himself imagining the scenario Tyrion had described that morning.

Jaime envisioned himself appearing almost from out of nowhere on the porch of the little cabin where Brienne was hiding. He fantasized that she would come to the door expecting Giantsbane, but finding him instead, bashful and filled with hope. In his mind’s eye he could play the scene exactly the way he wanted. When he took her in his arms she did not fight. He saw her smile grow as he held her close, begged for forgiveness, and swore his undying love for her. She would melt in his arms, me he would kiss her, long and slow. Brienne would touch his cheek when they finally parted for breath. He heard her voice declaring that she still loved him. That she had always loved him. In the happy world of Jaime’s thoughts, she would take him back and forget Tormund Giantsbane on the spot. Jaime would ask her to marry him then and there, and she would cry when she answered him with a loving, ‘Yes.’

A flash of red brake light, and the a shrill sound of a horn from the car in front of him as that driver tried to avoid rear-ending the truck even further ahead, rousted Jaime from his beautiful dream. He slammed his foot down on the brake pedal, his heart racing and lungs surging from the burst of adrenaline. He stared, unable to move for a moment. Somewhere he was vaguely aware of another car horn sounding behind him, but he could not move. He could not let go of the thought of Brienne in his arms once more. He wanted it more than anything. So what if he made a fool of himself, he had already proven himself to be just that. He needed to try. He needed Brienne.

Jaime rolled ahead a few feet, his brain unable to grasp the thoughts it conjured as they flew into his awareness. Next to actually leaving Brienne, it was without a doubt, the most ridiculous illogical notion that had ever occurred to him. He sighed, softening to the idea. It was also the most gloriously brilliant thing that had ever been presented to him. He realized that now was the time for decisions as he approached the intersection that would either take him to Headquarters, or take him to the highway that led North, to the woman he loved. Jaime’s heart raced, and everything within him urged him in only one direction.

“Oh, Fuck it all.” Jaime whispered to himself. He grasped the steering wheel, and jerked it hard to the right. As the late morning sun finally broke through the barrier of the city’s skyscrapers, Jaime merged onto the Kings Interstate, and sped north to Brienne.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Brienne and Sansa still in hiding, Sandor and Tormund receive troubling news. As Cersei’s hired guns close in, Jaime realizes he must find a way to help Brienne, and perhaps try to win her back in the process.

“What is it?” Sandor barked as he pulled Sansa’s little red convertible beside the tricked out classic muscle car that his brother drove.

Not even an hour before, Gregor had called Sandor and demanded they meet. He had been cryptic in his description of the reason that drove his urgency. He had not been in contact since the morning he had shown up at Sandor’s apartment with information of Cersei Lannister’s questionable stock buying. After that, there had been no news from the police S.W.A.T Captain. Finally, this morning, a phone call rousted Sandor from his ominous thoughts. His brother wanted to meet, and in a location far from any chance of detection. The area of town he had chosen was even more run down than the environs of Sandor’s office. Gregor had directed him to the empty lots beneath a crumbling bridge on the south end of town.

“Isn’t that adorable.” Gregor scoffed, eyeing the young sporty vehicle in which his scowling brother was stuffed. It had been his only mode of transportation since he had sent Sansa and Brienne North on his motorcycle.

“Save it!” Sandor shot back. “What did you find out?” He answered gruffly. Sandor was too fearful to hope. He hid his apprehension behind his usual mask of rough hatefulness.

At that moment Tormund Giantsbane screeched to a stop in his black pick-up truck, a short distance from them. He quickly shut off the engine and sprung from the driver’s seat in one motion. Reaching the red convertible at full speed, he swung the open the door and jumped in, eager to hear anything that could bring them closer to the truth of who committed the murders. Desperate to clear Brienne from the shadow of accusation that hung over her head.

Both Sandor and Tormund looked like they had barely slept in weeks. Their time had been spent prowling every corner of Kings Landing, searching for anything that would clear the names of the women they loved. Much to their mutual dismay, they had found very few leads. Both men’s tempers were short, and their patience was nearly non existent.

“Any news?” Tormund questioned, impatiently.

“It was busy over at Black Stag this morning.” Gregor informed them. “Way too busy.” He judged. “Cersei Lannister’s office was crawling with a bunch of black suits. Her personal investigators.” It seemed that he almost could not bring himself to look at his brother.

“Do you think it means something?” Sandor asked, already fearing the answer.

Gregor paused, taking a slow dreading breath. “I think they know where you’ve been hiding your girls.” He broke the news abruptly. “I overheard something about some cabin up North.” He reported.

Tormund bristled at the mention of the location where Brienne and Sansa had been staying for weeks. There was no way of telling how close Cersei’s men actually were to discovering them. He thought of how tired and frightened Brienne had sounded during their last scheduled phone call. He needs to be with her, to comfort her, and to ensure that he would allow none of the forces working against her to ever touch her.

Still not completely trusting his brother, the only sign that Gregor’s news had affected Sandor where his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. Uncomfortable with feeling beholden, Sandor stared ahead of him but directed his words to Gregor. “Thanks.” He said, dryly.

Gregor nodded, his eyes burning into Sandor. He nodded his acceptance and then spoke. “We’re square.” His intense stare betrayed his meaning to his brother. The big man’s unspoken explanation passed between the two of them. It was their sister of whom he spoke. Sandor had always blamed his brother for the death of his beloved sister. He understood that by accepting Gregor’s help, he would never see justice for the young girl who had been killed so long ago. For his Little Bird, he would make that sacrifice.

“Square.” Sandor echoed in cold agreement. Seemingly satisfied, Gregor turned, shifted his car into gear and gunned the motor. He sped off, leaving Sandor and Tormund to consider the news he had just heaped upon them.

“That’s it.” Tormund twisted in his seat, angry and aggravated with worry. “It has to be the cabin. Those bastards know where they are.” He stroked his beard roughly, tormented by the fear welling up within him. “For all we know they’re surrounding them as we speak.” He choked.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Sandor growled, grabbing his cell phone from his pocket.

Sandor frantically pressed the button that would connect him to the burner phone which had been his and Tormund only life line to Sansa and Brienne since the women had left. He drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as he waited for the other end of line to connect. Sandor had found himself praying again during this time without Sansa. He could not say when or why he had stopped. It had most probably been when he was very young, perhaps when his sister had been taken from him. Lately, he had rediscovered a comfort in the act. However, he feared that to acknowledge his rediscovered faith would be to admit his terror that no living person could help his Little Bird. Now he pleaded to the Gods that it would be her who answered his call.  
————————————  
Jaime Lannister had driven all night and was somewhere just north of the Riverlands. He had sped over the suspension bridge that crossed the Trident about an hour before, and by his calculations, he guessed that a few more hours of driving would take him to the little cabin where he was certain he would find Brienne and Sansa. He knew it was crazy, and he knew his better judgement should have taken over by now, but still he had every intention of declaring his love to Brienne and begging her to give him another chance.

Just as he was imagining how sweet Brienne’s lips would taste, the ringing of his cell phone through the sound system of his car startled Jaime from his thoughts. His face dropped to a hateful scowl when he saw that it was Cersei’s private line. Apparently, he had been out of contact for too long. He decided it was best to see what she wanted.

“Where have you been?” Cersei bellowed.

“Working.” Jaime announced, a little too sarcastically for his sister’s liking.

“Well, it certainly doesn’t seem like you’re very good at.” She scolded hatefully. “Why are my investigators the ones who found Sansa Stark and that skyscraper you used to date?” Cersei mocked. “Why aren’t you the one bringing me that tidbit of information?” She demanded.

Jaime’s breath choked in his throat. What had Cersei said? She had found them? Surely he had heard her wrong. “What?” He nearly screamed. It had to be her anger and his sleepless night that were playing tricks with his ears. “What did you say?” Jamie repeated, frantically.

The sound of frustration in Cersei’s voice could be heard all the way from Kings Landing. “I said, that we have found where Sansa Stark, and Brienne Tarth have been hiding.” He could tell she was smirking.

“Wh..., Where?” He swallowed the dryness forming in his mouth.

“Some ridiculous cabin up North.” Her voice sounded through the speaker. He could tell she was rolling her eyes. “Honestly, we should have checked property records first. I cannot believe you didn’t think of that.” Again, she ridiculed him. She had grown masterful at that over the years. “It belongs to that half wild army Colonel that Miss Tarth found to take your place.” Cersei chuckled hatefully.

“He’s a Sergeant!” Jaime yelled at where ever the speaker was in his car. He had no idea why he took such offense at Cersei’s blatant insult to Brienne’s lover.

“Gods, Jaime. Who cares?” Cersei howled with glee. “The point is we know where they are.” As she spoke, Jaime gripped the steering wheel so tightly he thought it might snap off in his hand, as if he thought perhaps his sheer will could stop the inevitable from happening. “I’m taking one of our helicopters up there. I’m on the roof waiting for it now. We have to land at our Northern airfield, and drive the rest of the way.” She informed him, he could hear her impatience. “We should still be there before noon.” She laughed, relishing the anticipation.

Reflexively, Jaime drew back his fist, and let loose his wrath on the only thing near enough for him to reach. He beat on the dashboard, Distraught and furious, the powerless feeling in the pit of his stomach was overshadowed only by the despair of realizing that he might be too late to come to Brienne’s aid. Even if he were too late to win her back, he had to help her. He had to try.

“Within a few hours, they will be sitting in jail where they belong.” Cersei’s self-congratulatory tone was more than Jaime could stand.

Jaime stretched for the screen on the dashboard console and jabbed the button that would hang up his phone. “Not if I have anything to say about it!” He swore to himself, shaking with rage.  
——————————  
“Hey Babe.” Sansa voice at first rang with the joy at speaking unexpected to Sandor, and then fell in worry through the speaker of his cell phone. “What’s wrong?” She asked breathlessly. It was not time for one of the scheduled talks that had been their lifeline to each other, and it was highly unusual for Sandor to risk anything that strayed from his prescribed protocol.

Sandor knew the details he had to relay to Sansa would frighten her, but he had no choice. “Cersei Lannister knows where you are.” He told her flatly, switching the smartphone to speaker mode. It surprised him how clear he was thinking. He realized he needed to be calm to get Sansa through the situation that lay ahead of her. He needed her to be leveled headed as well. His heart ached as he heard her take a moment, on the other end of the line, to compose herself.

“Ok.” Sansa breathed deeply. “What do we do?”

Stewing in the passenger seat as they sat in Sansa’s car, still under the bridge in Kings Landing, Tormund could not wait any longer. “Is Brienne with you?” He blurted.

Sansa understood that Tormund was just as concerned about Brienne as Sandor as about her. The truth was she herself was worried about her friend. Over the weeks they had waited in the North, Brienne had grown increasingly sullen. She was certainly not herself. Lately, although she tried to hide it, Sansa could tell that Brienne was not well.

“No.” Sansa answered Tormund’s question. “She’s still in bed. I’ll get her.” Without realizing, Sansa had given him great cause to worry. It was not at all like Brienne to sleep that late.

“You need to get Brienne and get out of there.” Sandor interrupted.

“You think they’re that close, already?” Sansa shuttered.

“There’s no way of telling how close they are.” Sandor said, not wanting to think of the dire possibilities. “But, there’s no need to wait around and find out.” He proclaimed. “You both need to get out of there, now.” The urgency in his voice told Sansa how terrified he was for her.

“Where should we go?” Sansa asked, her voice wavering in fear.

Sandor thought for a moment. His mind rushed across the whole of Westeros. Just where was there a place obscure enough not be under the surveillance of Cersei’s people. He had been many places working on the cases he investigated, most of them were no place he would even want to imagine taking his Little Bird. In this case, however, he had no choice. His brow furrowed as he glowered ahead, staring out the windshield. Then, his face brightened a bit. “There’s a shitty motel on the Old Kings Road. It’s on the east bank of the Trident, at the intersection with Gold Road, just before you get to the Harrenhal exit.” Sandor described.

“Ok.” Sansa acknowledged, trying to picture the location he had detailed in her mind.

“It’s not the nicest place, and I don’t want you going out around there by yourself.” He warned. “But it takes cash, and they don’t ask question. “Get two rooms.” He said, already knowing what he planned to do the moment he finally saw her again. He was sure that Tormund had the same plans for himself and Brienne. “Check in with a fake name, and text me your room number.” He instructed.

“Ok.” Sansa snuffed back the frightened tears that were threatening to break free at Sandor’s words. “How soon will you be there?” She begged. “I need to see you.” She began to cry.

Sandor’s heart broke at the distraught tone in Sansa’s voice. “I’ll just be an hour or two behind you.” He swore. “Now, go wake up Brienne, and get out of there.” He instructed.

“And Sansa.” Tormund broke in. He had been sitting in silent rage, seething with anger and fear for Brienne’s fate. “Would you tell Brienne that I’m coming, and that I love her.” He asked plaintively, suddenly sounding very lost.

“Of course.” Sansa agreed, understandingly. Tormund could only nod his gratitude.

“Little Bird.” Sandor said. “Be careful.” He pleaded.

“I will.” Sansa promised. “I love you.” She told him, desperately.

Sandor listened until the sweet lilt of her voice trailed from his ears. “I love you, too.” He answered, wishing he could be with her in that moment.

Sandor quickly hung up the phone before he could no longer fight the lump forming in his own throat. He looked at Tormund with an urgent scowl. “That truck of yours filled up?” He asked.

“Sure is.” Tormund almost chuckled.

“Good.”Sandor declared. “Because no way in the Hells am I’m driving all way with you in this little kiddie car.” Sandor regarded the interior of Sansa’s sports car with a sneered.

Tormund allowed himself a full laugh. “Wasn’t really looking forward to that myself.” He smirked. “Ok. Lock it, and leave, and hop in.” He ordered as he reached for the door handle. He got out and shoved the door shut behind him as Sandor was pushing the button to raise the roof into place. Tormund then looked back and bent down as the automatic cover latched into place. He rested his arm on the door, and looked into the passenger side window. “Let’s go get our girls.” Tormund smiled, already imagining Brienne in his arms.

Taking a moment to raise the windows, Sandor tried to tell himself that they were not too late, that Sansa and Brienne were making their narrow escape at that very moment and eluding Cersei’s men. He drew his massive frame up out of the car and locked the doors with key fob. ‘I’m coming, Little Bird.’ Sandor whispered as he followed Tormund to his truck.  
——————————

Sansa woke Brienne with a frantic urgency. “Brienne, Brienne. Wake up.” She raised her voice as she shook her friend back to consciousness.

Groggy and rubbing her eyes, Brienne did her best to sit up although her head was spinning. “What? What is it?” She mumbled through her fatigue.

“You have to get up.” Sansa told her in a rush, as she crossed the room to retrieve Brienne’s clothes from a chair by the window. “We have to go, now.” She said. The tone of fear in Sansa’s voice was unmistakable.

Brienne grew instantly alarmed. “What’s wrong?” She questioned after taking a settling breath.

Sansa tossed the garments at the foot of the bed and sat down on the mattress beside Brienne. “I just talked to Sandor.” Sansa reported. “Cersei Lannister knows where we are.” She broke the news bleakly.

Instantly, Brienne’s face mirrored Sansa’s concern. “Then she’ll waste no time sending her goons to grab us.” Brienne felt the blood in her veins run cold at the thought.

“That’s why we have to get out of here.” Sansa repeated. “Sandor has a plan. He and Tormund are going to meet us near Harrenhal, at a motel.” She tried to calm both their nerves.

“Tormund was with him?” Brienne smiled at the thought of the man she loved.

“Yes.” Sansa nodded.

Brienne’s face was a mix of comfort and worry. ‘How did he sound?” She was desperate for news of him.

Sansa smiled understandingly. “He misses you.” She said. “He asked me to tell you that he loves you.” She squeezed Brienne’s hand in reassurance. Brienne took a moment to fill her lungs, the thought of Tormund somehow brought her an encouraging peace. She smiled to herself and nodded.

“Now, come on.” Sansa prodded. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get to our guys.” She grinned.

Brienne joined her in welcome hopefulness and pushed back the covers. She stood quickly, her head spinning, and reached for the clothing Sansa had laid on the bed. Brienne pulled on her jeans, as Sansa left the room to prepare herself for their travel. She threw her sweater over her head and settled it around her, sliding her hand over her frame. Her mind had been spinning since they reached the cabin. Their time in the isolated wilderness had seemed endless, and Brienne was beginning to wonder if she would ever see Tormund again. She was beginning to wonder a lot of things, and she hoped that once they were together again, she would have the courage to face the notions that had played in the back of her mind. Thoughts she was too afraid to be excited for.

“You ready?” Sansa called breathlessly, poking her head in the door of what had become Brienne’s bedroom. Her insistent tone brought Brienne back from her thoughts.

“Yeah.” She answered, grabbing her boots. “Let’s go.” She agreed.

Before either could think of what dread might lie before them, Brienne and Sansa rushed through the small main room of the cabin. They grabbed only what they had brought with them when they came, a jacket, a purse, a set of keys. They knew it would be clear to anyone that investigated that they had been here. However, the women hoped they would be long gone by then. Sansa quickly turned the knob and threw open the front door.

Brienne was the first to step onto the porch. She nearly ran headlong into the man who stood waiting for her. “Jaime!” She gasped.  
——————————-  
“Hello, Brienne.” Jaime Lannister tried to smile through the awkwardness of his arrival.

Brienne was speechless as the initial shock of seeing him wore off. She could only regard him with confusion, and a bit of suspicion. Her eyes searched his face for any sign of deception. It was a look that broke Jaime’s heart. Brienne knew him well enough to tell whether he was trying to trick them. After a moment, she realized there was nothing to mistrust in his demeanor. Sansa was not so easily swayed.

“What are you doing here?” Sansa snapped at him sharply.

Jaime answered without taking his eyes from Brienne. “I’ve come to help.” He answered plaintively. His heart was bursting and aching at the same time to finally be so near to Brienne. However, this reunion was not going as he had imagined.

He continued attempting to state his case. “Brienne. I need to talk with you.” He begged.

Sansa exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes. “Trying to keep us here, so your sister can find us?” She mocked disdainfully.

Brienne held her hand up, partly to comfort Sansa and partly to quiet her. “It’s alright.” She said calmly. Even at Brienne’s reassurance, Sansa was still unable to remove her disbelieving stare from Jaime’s face.

“Oh come on, Brienne.” Sansa begged. “You’re going to trust him after...” She trailed off, knowing she was dangerously close to being out of line, even with her best friend. “After everything?” She reworded her thought. “For all we know he’s here to arrest us, or hand us over to Cersei.” She blurted angrily.

Brienne was quiet for a moment, studying Jaime. Finally she shook her head. “No.” She spoke calmly and quietly. “He’s not.” She affirmed, her eyes softer than she might have meant for them to be.

Jaime eyed the floorboards of the porch, almost bashfully. Not only had he come here to protect Brienne, he also had hopes of winning back her heart. He had been so sure of his approach during the long drive North. Now when he stood face to face with her, under Sansa’s accusatory glare, Jaime second guessed his every move.

“Please, can we talk?” He raised his gaze, and to his surprise found Brienne’s eye, sympathetic and warm.

Sansa took Brienne by the arm, suddenly extremely protective. “We don’t have time. We need to go.” Sansa urged.

“It’ll only take a minute.” Jaime spoke up, hopefully.

Brienne looked torn. She was desperate to get to Tormund. But there was history with Jaime. She could not just leave him standing there. She gave Sansa a knowing smile. “It’s alright.” Brienne told her. “Could you get the bike ready?” She asked softly.

Sansa stared at them, uncertain how to react, unsure what it meant. Part of her understood Brienne’s willingness to give Jaime a moment. They had been close once, in love. At that thought, something in her mind resented Brienne’s acceptance of Jaime Lannister. She felt defensive, for Tormund’s sake. Even though she was sure she knew better, Sansa wondered if there might be a chance that Brienne would consider taking Jaime back. Her mind was reeling from the events of the morning. Mostly, Sansa just wanted to be on the road heading toward Sandor.

Sansa rolled her eyes and clenched her jaw impatiently. “Fine.” She muttered, pushing past Brienne and stomping down the steps.

Jaime and Brienne waited in silence, watching Sansa disappear around the corner of the cabin. Jaime ran his hand through his hair. Brienne jammed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, and fumbled with the loose threads she found there. They nervously circled each other.

“Are you...?” Jaime began. “How did...?” Brienne started to say at the same time. They both gave a nervous chuckle at interrupting each other, and smiled, embarrassed and unsure.

“Please.” Jaime conceded. “You first.” He smiled.

Brienne accepted his invitations with a polite sigh. “How did you know where we were?” She questioned.

Jaime reddened slightly with embarrassment. “Since we broke...” He trailed off as Brienne looked away anticipating the rest of his statement.

Jaime squirmed uncomfortably, as he searched for a way to rephrase his fumbling attempt to answer her question. Could the end of their relationship be called a break up? Is it really a break when he left without a word in the middle of the night, and never spoke to her until he was assigned to the murder case which threatened the woman he loved?

“Let’s just say. I’ve made it business to make sure you’re...safe.” He said softly.

“Oh.” Was all Brienne could answer. She understood that he had checked Tormund out, thoroughly. She had assumed, Jaime had not given her a second thought. It was best to let that topic drop.

“You drove all the way up here, to check on us?” She asked, astonished.

Jaime regarded her, his heart simply glad to be near her. “Well, you, mostly.” He admitted.

Brienne stepped from him, unable to meet his piercing eyes. She hesitated for a moment, and then turned back. “Why?” She questioned, unknowingly gesturing her quandary with her hands.

“Because I know you didn’t do this.” Jaime told her intensely. “Because I had to make sure you were alright.” He said, his tone softening. He moved nearer, longing to wrap her in his arms. He settled for reaching out and taking her hand gently in his. “And because I was a Godsdamn fool.” He whispered, his face only a hair’s breadth from hers.

Brienne’s breath caught in her throat. She realized what Jaime was saying, what he meant, and what his purpose was in being there. He wanted her back. She could not help but recall the pain which his leaving had caused her. Brienne also remembered how she had felt when they were together. They had loved each other, completely. He was all she wanted, then. It had not lasted. He had taken it from her, or perhaps it had been stolen from them both. It did not matter now. She had struggled long and hard to get over him. To move on with her life. She had found another, and given her heart to him. Now all that mattered was the man who waited for her. Brienne thought of Tormund, and all they shared. She thought of how much she loved him. Now, he was all that she wanted.

She felt Jaime’s breath played upon her hair, his body moving even closer to her. “Brienne,” he whispered. She knew another moment would find his lips reaching for hers.

“Don’t.” Brienne answered Jaime. She pulled away from his touch.

Jaime felt her hand slip from his, and realized he could never fix what he had done, no matter how much he wished for it. The breath froze in his lungs, and he swallowed his regret like a bitter pill. “You really do love him.” He said numbly, it was not a question.

Brienne nodded. “With all my heart.” She had no wish to hurt Jaime, but she would not deny the truth of her feelings. “I would not give him up for anything.” She asserted. He understood her meaning.

Jaime watched Brienne, her thoughts focused on someone else, and wished it were still him. “He’s a lucky man.” Jaime smiled sadly, trying to hide that his heart was shattering in his chest.

Brienne’s eyes grew wistful. “I am the lucky one.” She corrected.

He studied Brienne’s eyes when she spoke of Tormund Giantsbane. How bright and happy they became, the same astonishing eyes that once shined for him. He saw her longing for the man who now shared her moments, happy in the life she had with him. Although, he knew it would change be nothing. Jaime needed to tell her how he felt. He ached to sooth his regret by swearing his heart to her forever.

“I should go.” Brienne’s voice brought Jaime back from his sad thoughts. She moved away from him, toward the steps. All he could do was follow her.

As she reached the edge of the porch, Jaime reached gently for her elbow, turning her momentum toward him. In that instant, Brienne saw the longing in his eyes. She understood now, why he had come. It was clear to her that Jaime Lannister was still very much in love with her.

“Brienne, I...” Jaime began. His voice shook with ache. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to beg her to take him back. He could only stare longingly into the eyes that always mesmerized him.

She silenced him with a tender caress of his jaw. Brienne regarded Jaime for a moment, with understanding care. “I know.” She told him, and then turned to continue her path from him.

It was then that Sansa came tearing around the corner on the motorcycle and screeched to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps. “We’ve got company.” She yelled, pointing to the long tree shrouded path that led to the cabin.

In the distance, three large black sport utility vehicles, stirred up a cloud of dust behind them as they raced toward the cabin. Their was no sign of any actual law enforcement. A chill ran through Jaime, wondering just what Cersei was actually planning. He had no wish to discover the truth behind her show of force. Jaime felt only the urgent need to get Brienne out of there.

Immediately on the alert, Jaime helped Brienne climb onto the back of the bike, and put on her helmet. He frantically searched for another trail that would lead them to safety, and noticed a well worn drive leading off into through woods at the rise of a small hill. “Over there.” He pointed the way to Sansa. “Go.” Jaime shouted. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can.” He promised. Brienne regarded him gratefully as Sansa raced off toward the forest. Jaime’s stricken gaze followed her, watching her speeding away, taking his heart with her.

Before Sansa and Brienne reached the treeline, Jaime heard the gravel crunching behind him, as the ominous black vehicles pulled to the edge of the drive. Before he could turn, nearly a dozen mysterious men crawled from the cars and took their positions along the grass. Some brandished pistols, some stood with rifles aimed. Cersei jumped down , quickly from the back seat of the one of the trucks, and reached Jaime’s side ready to see her plan come to fruition.

“Jaime!” She screamed at him. “What the Hells?” Cersei bellowed, angry that he had let her targets get away.

He shrugged and tried to look innocent. “They gave me the slip.” He protested.

Cersei rolled her eyes and swung around to address her black suited army. “Shoot them!” She ordered.

Before thoughts could even form in his mind, Jaime jumped into action, desperate to keep any harm from befalling Brienne. He sprinted to the guards, and grabbed the long rifle from the man’s shoulder. Without hesitation, he pulled his badge, and flashed his police credentials to the line of thugs.

“Lower your weapons.” He ordered, and was surprised that they actually complied.

Jaime planted his feet squarely, and raised the gun to his eye. He would do the best job he could of appearing to be a terrible shot. The fact that Cersei knew he was an expert marksman did not occur to him. Jaime’s heart pounded so fiercely in his chest that he hoped he did not end up actually wounding Sansa or Brienne in his trembling attempt. He stared through rifle site as the bike neared the trees, trying to wait until the last possible moment to pull the trigger.

The bike grew smaller in the distance. Jaime could stall no longer. Praying his plan would work, he pulled the trigger. The bullet tore from the barrel of the gun. Jaime’s breath stilled in his lungs. His heart no longer raced. It refused to beat at all. In barely the space of a blinking eye, the projectile split the side of a small bolder only inches from the back wheel of the motorcycle, and ricocheted away. Surprised by the sound of the shot, and the shattering of rock beside them, Sansa let the bike sway for a moment. Recovering quickly, she gunned the motor, and she and Brienne disappeared into the shadows. Jaime lowered the gun, and caught his breath. Cersei glared at him.  
———————————  
Hours later, Sansa guided the bike at full speed along a back road. She still could not believe they had escaped. She and Brienne had not spoken during the entire ride. The shock of their ordeal was only now beginning to wear off. Suddenly, she felt Brienne tapping her on the shoulder.

“Stop the bike. Pull over.’ Brienne yelled from behind her.

The tone of Brienne’s voice was so urgent, Sansa feared that her friend may have actually taken a bullet. She complied with the request quickly, and pulled into a thin thicket of brush on the side of the road.

“Are you hurt?” Sansa shouted as she swung herself off the seat. Brienne was already rushing to a nearby tree. She held onto the trunk tightly as the contents of her stomach emptied onto the ground. Sansa could only watch helplessly until Brienne's wretching was finished.

“Are you alright?” Sansa asked, as Brienne stumbled weakly back toward the bike, trying to wipe her mouth. Sansa took out a canteen and handed it to Brienne who accepted the offering gratefully. Brienne shook her head, and looked sickly at Sansa. She leaned, shaking, against the bike wheel.

Sansa watched her, suspiciously. “Yeah. I guess your ex-lover trying to kill you probably would have that effect.” She glared.

Brienne shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “He didn’t try to kill us.” She corrected.

Sansa could hold her temper no longer. “He shot at us!” She declared, throwing up her hands in disgust.

Still shaking her head, Brienne looked knowingly at her friend. “Jaime is the best shot I’ve ever seen.” She informed Sansa. “If he’d wanted to hit us, he would have.’ She asserted.

“Then, what was he doing?” Sansa implored.

Brienne was still catching her breathe as she answered. “Buying us time.” She said. “Letting us get away.” Her eyes were distant and grateful.

Sansa calmed at Brienne’s explanation, remembering how the rock had shattered beside her. Maybe Brienne was right. It would be nice to think they had someone in Cersei’s inner circle who was actually looking out for them.

“Well.” Sansa conceded. “It worked.” She breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Yeah.” Brienne smiled thinnly. “But I think we have another little problem.” She said, her face grimacing with nausea.

“You’re not well.” Sansa concurred.

Brienne shook her head. “It’s not that.” She corrected, and then looked fearfully at Sansa. Taking a deep breath she was ready to face what she had suspected for some time. “I’m late.” Her eyes growing at once soft and terrified. “Very late.” She choked.

Sansa’s expression softened with amazement. “What?” She asked, a sweet smile finding her face at her friend’s news.

Even with Sansa’s supportive presence, Brienne somehow felt very alone, on the run, and so far from home. “I think I’m pregnant.” She declared.


End file.
